Burnt Toast, Bus Stations, and Unrequited Love
by MyMadness
Summary: The man's pullover was ridiculous. And his umbrella, absurd. He was no one she had ever seen before... and so obviously HIM. He proved he can go back. Now that they've both changed, can they go forward? Ch 19 More numbers. The final chapter!
1. Chapter 1

**a/n: **

**The notion is that the Seventh Doctor is different. More vulnerable. A little more emotionally aware. And he finds himself able to do something he never could before...**

///

She knew the roses were a ridiculous outlet for her energy. This was hopeless and frustrating. She gardened like she did nothing else, she realized with a groan. Carelessly. And with periodic violence.

The roses were at her hands, but her thoughts tumbled over work and problems. Over how unfulfilled life could feel and the men she had given up on. Then there was that urge to settle that she had pushed aside. It pricked her every now and then like a thorn.

Forgetting the bushes for the moment, she looked up at the sky. And sighed. That, she knew, was a habit she should be rid of. Surveying the reality she had here - in this house, on this block, on this one planet - she knew that she was nothing more than ... empty.

...

Across the street from her house, there stood a small man. He was a bit confused, perhaps, but content. He was happy to find himself here, happy to get this chance after so long, to just watch her. It was a quilty pleasure, reacquainting himself with her face and her movements.

He could feel it, his blood was running fast with the surprise of being here and the sight of the girl he had known so long ago. He did not understand it all yet, the how and why of being here. But he didn't need to. He accepted it. He would make the best of it.

He knew she would be even more surprised. And he worried about that. _Surprised may not be ALL she is_, he acknowledged with an anxious tap of his umbrella to the pavement.

Fifteen years it had been for her. And 3 re-generations for him. He looked different, not at all what she was used to. With an unsteady hand, he smoothed his coat. Then he looked down to gauge the impression he would likely make. _Well,_ _t__he shoes were a good choice, surely? Natty_.

_Not sure that helps though_, he thought with a conscious effort to keeping his mind to what matters.

He pulled off his hat and ran an aimless hand over his head and tsk'ed. What curls he had now were short and.... yes, thinning. And it would certainly not escape Sarah Jane's notice that his head was assuredly a good piece closer to the ground. Ten inches in height seemed rather a lot to have misplaced, he thought with a sigh. But at least he was less wild looking now.

And inside? Well.... he had spent too much time thinking about how he felt recently.

_But Sarah Jane?_ he thought with a sigh. She looked the same, better maybe. He watched as she passed then from her gated side yard to the back.

Would she want to hear anything that he had to say, he wondered.

She had every right to be angry. Showing up like this, after all these years might not be what she wanted from him at all. At best, she would simply be disinterested and unwilling to listen. At worst? Well, there was that temper. _I'm worried if she'll hear me out? I should be wondering how likely it is_ _she'll thump me._ He swallowed that bit of panic. And the next bit. Then closed his eyes and balanced there on the edge of the curb as if his fate was in someone else's hands.

With a jerky motion, as if his feet had decided to move without telling his brain, he was stepping into the street. He held down his hat and ducked his head as he walked across. He was to the gate before the voices in his head could object.

Before the prim guardian who had met her at UNIT could say, _"Leave her be."_

Before the tall, rakish bohemian who had left her could childishly wonder, _"Maybe being apart is for the best?"_

He was a new man. And he wouldn't pay those ghosts any mind.

"Sarah," he said, softly from his side of the fence. He'd spoken so lowly that the woman who tended the roses did not hear him at all. "Sarah Jane," he called now from inside the gate.

The voice was seasoned. Scottish. Not one she had heard before. But not one that gave her any worry.

Absently, she turned. Squinting. Apologizing to the stranger who had invaded her yard, hat in hand. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and assessed him.

The face was lined and tired. The jaw set with a firmness that began to worry her. But there was something so open and vulnerable about him still. Something that touched her. Searching his eyes, she thought maybe it was the sadness she found there.

He dipped his head for a moment then, as if uncomfortable under her gaze. As if awaiting her verdict. And that was when it hit her.

The man's pullover was ridiculous. His umbrella, absurd. The hat, somehow wrong.

This man was no one she had ever seen before...

and so obviously him.

///


	2. Chapter 2

**The title of this fic comes from dialog in the episode, Ghost Light....**

///

But despite how obvious it was, that this could be no one else, she could not believe it. How could this timid, broken man who stood, merely STOOD - not pacing or fidgeting or bouncing as she was used to – be the man who had left her?

"Doctor?" she said, carefully.

"Yes."

And neither said anything for too long. He seemed oddly content to merely stare at her. To study her with a peculiar fascination.

"I must be a sight!" she concluded, uneasily, with a hand to her face.

"Yes," he said. "A very, very good one."

She ignored his comment. And stepped back a bit, feeling undone and too exposed. She sub-consciously set to inventorying every ache, wrinkle, and extra pound the intervening years had brought her. "We should go in and get something to drink," she said, dropping her gloves and dusting off her pants. "Let's get out of the sun and this middle-age folly I call a garden, before I fall over." She tried to smile, but she knew she sounded dour.

"Middle age is hardly _old_, Sarah," he said, as she walked ahead of him.

Barely through the door of the house, she turned on him. Perhaps it was the resentment she had over being left. Over having attached herself to a Time Lord. Or at having found herself now an ordinary mortal past forty. All he knew was that her emotions flew at him.

"You've come a long way with that helpful news," she told him in a brassy voice. "But I'm too tired for platitudes. Some of us live completely linear lives, Doctor. On Earth. And we get just the one. We become quite adept at noting the passage of time. So, if I tell you I feel old and positively decrepit, you will have to allow that."

She pulled the refrigerator open smartly and grabbed the lemonade.

"I know precisely how old you are," he said.

Was he teasing her? Just being pedantic? She couldn't tell with him, this new him. She rolled her eyes at him before pulling glasses from her cupboard. She wanted to ask him when had he ever been aware enough to know her birthday? When had he known how old she was? But she bit her tongue. She couldn't say it. She knew she had exposed him to quite enough of her self pity already.

"And don't think time has not played tricks on me," he said, taking the glass she offered and placing it on the table. "Or have you missed how much of me is missing?" he said with a nervous smirk. She sighed and turned back to pour her lemonade, determined to stay at least a little angry with him.

"I wasn't trying to offend you. I've missed you, Sarah Jane," he said, his voice rising hopefully.

She turned to face him, armed with a retort. But as she watched the man, she melted. The hand that did not hold his hat raised up three inches as if he would touch her, but did not dare. This new tentative aspect to him startled her.

"What's happened to you?" she asked with concern.

"I regenerated. Twice before this..." he said in a low, serious voice.

It felt odd, that she could look right into this Doctor's eyes. She and he were nearly the same height now and physically, it was easy. But she noticed also that THIS doctor was inviting her in. Meeting her gaze more often than not. This was not the manic, emotionally oblivious Time Lord she had last known.

She shook inside at the idea of the Doctor's irrepressible nature becoming something she could never imagine.

"Something has happened," she insisted. "This. Hat in hand. Quiet and cowed? Like you've been hurt," she guessed, quietly. "This isn't you."

"A bit timeworn, perhaps," he said, trying to rally. "But the problem was, I was... lost."

"Not surprising," came her gentle attempt at humor.

"Not spatially," he told her. And he used his hat to lightly smack her forearm, making her smile for the first time. "I had become aimless. Stuck, but set loose. The TARDIS, of course, knows things. Knows me. And," he frowned then, "she doesn't listen. Perhaps, she'd had enough of my sulking."

"You are saying the TARDIS brought you to Earth, and you took this as a sign to look me up?"

"The TARDIS dropped me down the street, not a block from here," he said, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb. "She didn't bring me to Earth. She brought me to _**you**_."

"Why now?" Sarah asked with a shake of her head.

"Because it's me. This me. I think," he answered, quietly.

"No," she said, insistently. "Why my now, then?!"

Would he understand, she wondered, that she mourned the time lost, or at least questioned why she had had to lose those years to missing him?

...

Quiet. The man in her kitchen was strangely quiet and a thousand things flashed behind his eyes.

He could not tell her everything now, he knew. But he needed to tell her enough.

"Will you let me sit down? Because I too am managing to feel rather decrepit," he said, turning her earlier words on her. "No matter what world I am on or how resilient you remember me to be."

"God, yes. I'm sorry," she said in a fluster. And she pushed off from where she had been leaning against her counter and joined him at the table.

"I was rather amazed to be here," he told her. "Although, I had been thinking of you. And then standing there across the street, I wondered if you would even want to see me after the abrupt way he, well... I left you."

"You talk of yourself in the third person now?" she mused.

"It is all part of me. My past. But I am very, very different now. For better or worse..." And he set his mouth firmly. There was an edge to this new Time Lord and a weariness. He seemed more a bitter survivor now than a bold traveller.

"So, let me apologize," he continued. "Let me tell you that you are all those things I never told you. Brilliant. Sweet. Patient. And good. That I want you to be happy."

Sarah sat there quite stunned. There had been a time when she had thought what it would be like to face the Doctor again, but this meeting was nothing like those fantasies. Hearing this man, she didn't have the heart to tell him how angry and wounded she had been the day they had parted. It had been bad enough, that vague feeling that he barely cared, but the final straw had been that he hadn't even managed to bring her properly home. He had stranded her in Aberdeen. She had always imagined that would be something she would pummel him with, but not now.

Her silence did not bode well, he decided. He watched her sink her head into her hands. He put his hat back on as if he would leave, but then waited. He watched her, his head cocked to the side.

He smiled then when she picked up her head and her inquisitive look was locked on him. "The TARDIS brought you here," she said, mentally reasoning this out. "Forced you here. But still, the real reason behind this must actually be _**you**_. Must be something _**in**_ you. So, tell me. WHY are you here, Doctor?"

_That was the question, wasn't it?_ he thought with a bit of panic. Suddenly, he would no longer look her in the eye. He seemed skittish, and she laid a heavy grip on his sleeve, as if afraid he would bolt.

"Trust you to see beyond the TARDIS' involvement..." he said, stealing a quick look at her and sounding vaguely proud of her.

"Trust you to evade my question... Don't hide things from me, Doctor," she said, quite firmly.

And he let out half a laugh and closed his eyes for a moment, as if acknowledging that that was what he did so _**very**_ often. She gave his arm a faint shake to pull his attention back to her, "And do not just walk away from me again. Not without telling me what brought you here. I can't believe it is some old apology. Or that it is a TARDIS error. This is something in you. Something the TARDIS sensed. Are you in trouble?"

His eyes drifted closed as he seemed to overly process what she thought was a simple question. His guard seemed to slip even further then, and suddenly his face seemed pained. Without his eyes on her, she felt emboldened, she reached forward and laid a hand to his face.

She saw him relax, felt him press into her palm. And his answer came then.

"It was unsettling. I'd just gone... empty, Sarah. Desperately empty."

"Empty," she repeated at a whisper. "Now _**that**_ I understand."

They sat quietly then. The shadows were getting longer. The light in the kitchen grew noticeably dimmer. But it seemed to suit the mood, and so, Sarah sat across from him, and waited. Just waited, rather than standing to turn on the overhead light.

"Now is when everything, all those times that we had before, really resonate with me," he finally said. "It was all experienced then. And I felt it... I did..." he said as if trying to conjure a lost memory. "But now? Like this? I...." and he trailed off.

She narrowed her eyes. "Now?!" she said, incredulously. _Oh you bastard_, she thought and leaned back and away from him. "It has taken you this long to miss me, that's what you are saying. When _**all**_ those years, I ...."

She was angry. Resentful. And this Doctor was able to see it. Feel it.

"Sarah," he whispered as he reached for her. But she stayed out of reach. He would weasel his way back into her heart if she wasn't careful. How many times had he run rough shod over her only to win her back like this? Just her name said softly and the offer of his hand and she had always forgiven him.

She met his eyes unflinchingly and made her silent vow: It wouldn't work this time.

He saw it in the set to her jaw. He was not the only one who had changed. This Sarah Jane was very wary of having anything to do with him. And he couldn't blame her. He had been inconsistent to her in the past. Selfish and unreachable.

"Do you need my help, Doctor? I still don't understand why you are here," she said a mite coldly. "You are not one for trifles... like personal relationships gone bad."

"You don't trust me now," he assessed.

"Well, I'm not 25 any more!" And with that said, she felt harsh and unforgiving. In part, she knew, she was taking out the anger she had at the world on him.

She looked away before she could say what she needed to. "If there is anything I can do to help you, if you need something..._**please**_, just tell me. I would always help you. I owe you so very much...." And then her eyes found his and they were not the young forgiving ones he had left years ago. "But do I TRUST you? Do I blindly believe you?" She unashamedly wiped the tears that spilled down her cheeks. "I just didn't understand you then, did I? Or I didn't WANT to understand the truth. I was something you needed. Needed. And used. And were rid of. But you are incapable of any lasting attachment."

"I am here because this _**is**_ a lasting attachment. You told me not to forget you. And I didn't, Sarah Jane. I've worked to forget a great many things." His finger came up to touch to his temple and his eyes squeezed closed. "But I've kept you with me," he said, ardently. "Please. I need a bit of time with you. Don't throw me out just yet. That's all I'm asking."

She sighed in defeat. She wanted to curse herself. To curse him. And instead, she heard herself say, "It's almost time for supper. I'll feed you. And then you can stay in the guest room."

It was an invitation that sounded like a death sentence the way it fell flat from her mouth.

* * *

A/N: If you are reading this fic, you are VERY special indeed. And I thank you. :)


	3. Chapter 3

He insisted on helping her cook dinner. Knife in mid-stroke, he stopped his haphazard chopping to narrow his eyes and return her stare.

"Trying to get used to me? Hmmm? It's this new look, isn't it?" he asked. He turned his head left and then right, placidly offering his face for inspection. "It won't upset me. Tell me what bothers you about it."

"It won't upset you?!" she said with both enjoyment and sarcasm. "Oh, now you are being funny. You were always a touchy sort about your looks."

"It's something you miss, maybe? Something that used to be there, Sarah Jane?"

He was right, but it was nothing as mundane as a mop of curls or a certain chin.

_I miss the playfulness, the confidence, _she thought, as she continued to look at him._ I miss the impish and energetic Doctor. Because I didn't have to worry about him. Oh, but you? You could break my heart. So tired looking with those circles under your eyes and that frown that seems so permanent._

"You used to smile," she said, wistfully. "The best part... was that you would smile right at me." She paused. "And then," she said with a chuckle, "invariably everything would go to hell right after you had given me the biggest grin with your eyes **_impossibly_** wide."

His face slid into a deeper frown as he thought about it. He rubbed his free hand over his face, as if to re-familiarize himself with the muscles involved. "I'm out of practice. But I think it might be managed again." He gave her a forced and pitifully small, toothless smile then. "Not quite as large though... Some things are now physically impossible."

And then he winked.

It was an action that shocked him more than it did Sarah. He gripped the knife tighter and asked himself, _Come on. Tick Tock Tick Tock. How long has it been?_

His brain searched frantically, but he couldn't remember. _How long now since he had winked? Joked? Laughed? _ _G__rinned?_

"I _**am**_ decrepit," he said to the vegetables he was slaughtering.

"What did you say?"

"I said, you used to smile more, too."

"Too true," Sarah told him, as she walked past for the dining room.

///

For dinner, she had opted for the lights on full. The absence of candles was a conscious decision.

"Can you tell me a little bit at least about what happened to you?" she said, carefully.

"Oh, Sarah. A lot of things ... horrible things happened."

She nodded. Breathed deep to ease the impulse to ask more. There had been a time when she had always pushed too hard. Demanding that every puzzle have an answer, that everything and everyone reveal their secrets. People are not stories, she had realized long ago. In the end, that doggedness can lose you more than you gain.

He watched her, the about-face was not lost on him. "Frankly, I had expected to be interrogated. To have you _**pry**_ at me, demanding answers the way you used to," he said with a teasing tone.

She felt a slight, and her cheeks began to color. "Time, Doctor. It changes people. I've learned to let some things lie. I've learned all about expectations and disappointments. And as I did not join a cloister, or swear myself to celibacy, you are no longer the only reticent, difficult male I have associated with. So, _**maybe,**_ I've gotten better at it."

He stared, his fork half way to his mouth, obviously processing the statement. And she wondered, does he have the capacity to understand not just my words, but the implication?

_I'm trying to tell you, I worked to replace you. _

_That there were shoes kicked off in my hallway. Men I pulled in and held close. Dinners here. Laughter ringing off these walls. _

_I wanted them to be what you were to me. And I craved that bit more that you couldn't give. Constancy. Intimacy._

_There were good night kisses on my door step. Delicate whispers in my bedroom. Fingers across my skin. A dependable warmth to wrap myself around at night. _

_Dependable. For a time. Always too short a time._

And with a wash of shame and surprise, she realized this Doctor did not seem to have missed the meaning or the unnecessary malice behind what she had said.

He looked away. Was he processing what she had said, or feeling the sting of it? She wasn't sure.

Watching him now, she felt guilt, but also some relief. It had been a harsh thing to say, perhaps. And juvenile, like a tantrum that proclaimed one's adulthood. But how long had she wanted to say _**something**_? Years ago, had he noticed the tension and ignored it? Has he known how she had felt and done nothing?

"Change is ... likely unavoidable," he said at last.

"For someone who claims to understand time, you are surprisingly perplexed by the effects of its passage," she said, softly.

"It's not time I fail to grasp, Sarah. It's people."

///

They were left with only silence after that.

"Come on," she said once the quiet grew to be too much, and their dinners were finished. "Let me show you where the guest room is."

He followed her up the stairs. "You are good to me, Sarah."

She only hummed a response, feeling more petty than good.

She realized once she looked at him standing in her guest room that he seemed horribly out of place, like a child being left on his first day of school. "Are you going to get anything for the night from the TARDIS?" she asked.

"No. I'll manage."

"Tooth brush?" she suggested.

Distractedly, he pulled his sonic screw driver out of his pocket proudly and turned it on. "It has the cutest little attachment," he said, and he made a little scrubby motion. "I'll be fine."

"I've got some extra pajamas that might fit you. I'll get them for you," she suggested.

"No," he objected too quickly.

"Nothing pink... nothing of mine," she said, as a halting joke. "A set of..."

He held her eyes, and it all passed between them. _A set of __**men's**__ pajamas,_ she was going to say, he guessed.

"No," he said again, too harshly. Reigning in his impatience, he told her, "It would have to be a pair of yours with the little yellow ducks I remember or nothing at all." And he smiled thinly.

She had taken her personal life and used it like a weapon against him, she now saw. And apparently her comments had penetrated the target. She sank down onto the guest bed and looked up at him. "I need to apologize for snapping at you over dinner. I hadn't realized I was still... angry."

"At me?"

"No. I figured out a long time ago that it's not your fault," she said, evenly.

"I'm your friend, Sarah Jane. That is still true, right?" he said as if trying to reassure her.

"Yes."

"What were you trying to tell me?" he whispered, sitting down next to her. "I've been told I can be a little difficult. Obtuse about somethings. 'Expectations.' 'Disappointments.' And a 'cloister,' you said. And I'm tied up in there somewhere?"

"Oh," she groaned, uncomfortable with continuing. "I suddenly felt so spiteful at dinner. Your notion that I would not have changed... as if you expected me to just be that trusting, devoted girl you had dropped off, frozen in time. As if you thought you could just walk back in to find that my life has been on hold ... for you. My misplaced sense of pride wanted to let you know, I had not just sat waiting."

"I never would have asked you to put your life on hold for me, Sarah."

"I may have gotten on with my life, but I still didn't get where I thought I would. Maybe that's what made me so defensive," she admitted with a sigh. "You were a hard act to follow. And I'm not the sort to settle. So, here I am. Past 40. No husband. No children. There's no nieces or nephews... I don't have any family at all. And ... I can't expect you to understand how that feels. But it is ...."

"Empty."

"We both keep saying that word," she told him.

"You mentioned the men..." he said as a question.

"Because I'm childish," she said with weary self-disgust. "And I thought maybe it would prove something to you. Shock you. Hurt you. Make you understand that you had lost me."

"Childish," he said, considering. "Does that make me childish, too... if it worked?"

She stood then, feeling she had unburdened herself too much.

"Doctor?" she said, once she had reached the doorway.

"Hmmm?" he asked, seeming lost in thought, his eyebrows high.

"Again, I'm sorry. Please, try to be here in the morning?"

///

She hadn't slept well. But then that was no surprise. It had been years since her house had held an over night quest, and it had never been a Time Lord.

She walked by his room and found the door open. He was stretched out stiffly on top of the covers, hands clasped over his stomach, eyes considering the ceiling. The only concession made to comfort was the absence of the over-sized coat. His hat hung on the bedpost. He was a strange picture of ease and unease. And she wondered if he had slept all.

She knocked as she leaned into the room. "Don't think too much on an empty stomach," she told him, before she walked up to the side of the bed.

A small smile from him was the only answer that came. He closed his eyes then as if to tell her he was content to lie there. And that he would not be heeding her advice.

He looked reassuringly harmless lying there. A quiver of feeling ran through her as she stood over him. Even seeing him in this new form made her miss the closeness they had had. Theirs had been a connection that she had never been able to replace.

They had been best friends after all. Touching when they talked. Teasing. Laughing. Happily in sync. _We were amazing together_, _weren't we?_ she thought with a smile. _High on adrenaline and shared enthusiasm._ _An__d affection,_ she reminded herself. _The affection I remember was **real**._

"Come get some breakfast," she said, forcing herself out of her reverie. "I'll not have you withering away on my watch."

"Yes, if I was to get any smaller, you might not know I was here," he said, opening his eyes and giving her a small smile.

They were both trying so hard. Floundering, hoping for the bit of spark from years ago. They held each other's gaze silently.

Suddenly, he cleared his throat and looked away as if it was too much for him. "Breakfast!" he announced with a surge in his accent. He sprang up from the bed. "I'll cook!" And there was a wag of his eyebrows.

///

It was nice, she had to admit, having someone around the house, letting him busy himself in her kitchen. She felt a euphoric sort of relief that he was still here after all the things she had said the night before. It was a second chance she would not take for granted.

He needed to be here. He needed somewhere safe to rest. _To recover,_ she thought, _from whatever he's been through_. And if she had chased him off, she would have felt horrid. He still looked haggard this morning. But he was acting better.

She tried to hover while he worked, and he brandished the spatula at her. It was a small thing, done with half the vitality he used to have. But it gave her hope that he was less forlorn.

_What was this desire to take care of him? To see him get better?_ she wondered. _Was this a misplaced maternal urge? Or something far more foolish that she should not allow?_

She remembered all those times she had sat with him, touched him when he had been injured. That first time, she'd been scared to stretch out her hand. She'd never taken such a liberty before. The Doctor lay in that dark room, unmoving. Believing him unconscious, she had barely touched his silver hair and then pulled back quickly.

He'd reached up and found her hand, squeezing it weakly, whispering her name. And she had pulled his hand to her face to let him feel the tears there. Because she couldn't have told him that that was when it had all changed. But she had wanted him to know.

That was her weakness. She had always wanted him to know how she had felt about him. Whether she was angry at him or in love with him, she had always been rubbish at hiding it. The anger he had always picked up on, eventually. But her tall friend had been too adolescent to see that she had grown romantically attached to him.

Why did there have to be this ache she felt when she looked at this new Doctor? Perhaps, because he was no less injured now. He was walking, yes. Conscious. But obviously hurt.

In her mind, she could see the young woman she had been taking quiet steps across her kitchen. That girl, trusting and whole, would come up behind him, feeing his pain in her heart. She would brush at the wisps of hair by his ear, and then wrap an arm around him, just for a moment.

And now? _Now_, she answered herself, _I know how the story ends._

And still she wanted to go to him, offer up everything_. Like a fool. _ These things she wanted to do, this closeness she craved, would ruin her. _How long_, she asked herself, _before I want what he can't give me?_

She needed to acknowledge to herself that he has never needed these attachments and emotions. _What am I doing to myself, wanting these things I will only lose again? Wanting comfort from someone who does not understand it?_

She found herself stepping back across her kitchen, enforcing a distance between him and her. As if a certain measure of inches could keep her heart safe.

He slid the eggs to the plate with a flourish and then turned to smile at her. "Applause is not necessary, but I would like to think you had at least noticed," he told her.

Her smile was nervous. "Well done, Doctor," she managed.

...

After breakfast, he walked for the window and looked out into the garden. He seemed focused on the spot where they had talked the day before, or maybe that was her imagination reading into everything.

She came to stand near him, just behind his shoulder. Waiting. Sensing something was coming.

With his eyes locked on the outside, he began quietly.

"Being alone was .... I remembered too much. Battles. Things that had gone wrong. Decisions I doubt now." He closed his eyes for a moment. "I tried to shut it down. The voices," he said, tapping a finger against his skull. "The echoes of everything I've lost. The whispers of what's to come. I had become so bitter. Angry, perhaps?" he mused in a voice which frightened her for a second. " So, I turned off everything I could. I managed it all – except for you. I still wondered about you."

"I want to help. I just don't know what to do," she whispered.

"Just being you. The things you always did. Keeping me honest. Keeping me on track," he said, soberly. Then he added, "Picking me up when I fall on my arse."

She laughed and he turned quickly to make sure he caught it. "Oh, I've missed that," he told her sadly. And with a single finger her tapped her on the nose.

...

She eased into the sofa and got comfortable with a sigh. "I'm not going in to work today. They don't need me this time of year anyway. So, I'll spend the day with you," she announced.

"You don't still work with UNIT, do you?" the Doctor asked.

"UNIT? God, no." She pulled her knees up as she mentioned UNIT, and he thought the action defensive. He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at her. He had spent too long at deception not to sense her desire to hide something. Insecurity and jealousy began to rise in him. "I gave up all that UNIT craziness," she told him. "I'm on the university staff, teaching journalism. And then I just write freelance."

She ducked her head a moment as all the memories from years ago came back. "It felt very odd to be with all the folks from the base without you there. I stayed awhile. Wrote one more technology piece and then bolted."

_Bolted,_ she told herself. _After that Christmas party. After I finally figured out what a fool I was being._ She watched his face as her memories rose and fell. What was it she saw in him now? As if he understood the memories concerned him.

She looked into the Doctor's suddenly sharp eyes and the past played out. "Christmas," she said. "One of those obligatory office parties. I left right after that."

_Harry had been there. Kind and attentive. But she could see reflected in his manner that she had gone cold. Her favorite sergeants tried to chat her up hopefully, sweetly really. And she watched for that moment of realization in them that she was a lost cause.  
_

"And it was fairly obvious that I was pining away for someone who was never coming back," she said quietly over her knees.

_She watched the Brigadier from across the way. Far from just putting in an appearance as he had done in previous years, he was lingering as if he had no where else to be. And she knew, that was it exactly. Christmas was coming, and the poor man was newly divorced. _

_The man was suffering, but the signs were subtle. He was so very good at being the Brigadier, at playing that role of commander and protector and ultimate authority, that those under him never thought to wonder if he had a real life at all. They assumed he didn't and that he liked it that way._

"I stayed too long. Maybe drank too much," Sarah said, and the Doctor nodded slowly, encouraging her to continue.

_The party was winding down. She had done nothing but show everyone what miserable company she was, still heart sick for the doctor. She chided herself for her weakness. Near-stomped over to find her coat. And tried to reassure herself that at least she would not have to face these people again. She hated the notion that so many people would know how destroyed she was._

"_Let me walk you out, Miss Smith," she heard the Brigadier say from behind her._

"_Oh, I'll be alright, really. Don't trouble yourself."_

_But he took none of that from her. "Come along," he said in a quieter voice. Gentle, yet firm. It was what she needed really. To let someone else take over. To have someone she trusted make decisions and steer for a while._

"But the Brigadier looked after me."

_They walked in silence through the hallways and down the stairs, and when it was time to leave the building, he suddenly guided her into a small office by the door. _

"_What is it?" Sarah asked._

"_You need someone to talk to."_

"_And you don't?" she blurted out._

"We talked," Sarah explained with a shrug.

_The Brigadier gave her a wounded smile, "Let's start with you. I want you to know, I think it's a smart thing that you are moving on. But I had thought you would have... well..."_

"_Gotten over him by now? Stopped waiting?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Did giving up come easily to you," she asked firmly, but not unkindly._

"_No. I don't like it. It isn't really in my nature," he said with a grimace "And the idea that the marriage ending was pretty much my fault did not help matters," he admitted. _

"Did you know he had gotten divorced?" Sarah asked. And the Doctor barely nodded, still hypnotically held by her eyes.

"_He won't ever come back will he?" she asked sadly._

"_Oh, I would not be surprised to see him again. But... well, he will have moved on, so to speak."_

"_There will be someone new, you mean," she said, bitterly.  
_

"He helped me understand you. Your nature..."

"_I have known him longer than you have," the Brigadier said remarkably gently. "And so, yes, I can tell you that he is not able to be alone. It is as if that other person is a missing piece he needs. And that doesn't mean that person won't get treated horribly from time to time."_

"...and I finally told someone how terrible I had been feeling all those months."

"_I had threatened to leave only to have him shove me out," she admitted. She hadn't told anyone the ugly, shameful details of it. And they came pouring out, "Half the time it was as if he couldn't even hear me. And I got so frustrated with him. I packed my things and told him I had had enough. Such a ridiculous, childish thing, because I really thought he would just beg me to stay. And then he got called to Gallifrey. And just tells me, 'Off you go, Sarah. You've been a good girl.' After all the years I had been with him." She had a hold of the Brigadier's lapels now and was gripping them tightly winding herself in closer to him, her voice getting as tense as her hold on him._

"_We expect such perfection from him," the Brigadier said in a whisper at her ear. "His intellect is beyond compare. And somehow we think his judgement, his actions will always be what they should. He isn't a man, really, Sarah," the Brigadier said, slipping into a familiarity he had rarely used. He traced circles across her back. "I pity him that sometimes And you'll find the right man. You'll see."_

_She picked her head up from his uniform and brushed at the tear stains there guiltily.  
_

"What the Brigadier said made sense. That we expect what we can't have from you," Sarah told the Doctor.

"_I don't need a man," she said, dismissively. The ones who surrounded her were disappointments. Too human. Too weak. She was still holding on to the Brigadier, and she realized that she didn't count him among that group, the mere-men. And she was staring now, she realized. God knows how long she had taken to look at the Brigadier and assess what he was. "I need a colossus. An unmovable mountain, someone with unshakable surety," she said. She squeezed his arms then, and he responded with a confused look. "Please? Just for right now? Just to be kissed by that kind of man." She put a hand to his cheek and pleaded with him, "I'm sick of indecisive, vacillating men and childish, non-committal Time Lords. Just for a minute, I want something more." _

_It was more than a minute. And it was exactly what she had needed. She was right about the Brigadier. Alastair. The unrushed way he pulled her in even closer and began to kiss her, let her forget. Let her stop thinking for just a while. His hands were solid and sure, all she had to do was yield up to him._

_But she did more than that. She kissed him back. Clung to him fiercely._

Sarah closed her eyes for a moment to clear her head, and when she looked up the Doctor's face was oddly stern and frozen. His eyes frighteningly intent. Finally, he blinked quickly. "Doctor? You don't read minds, do you?" Sarah asked, quietly. Guiltily.

"I try not to," he said with agitation. Abruptly, then he stood and walked for the garden.

///

**A/N:**

**I thank you most sincerely for reading. :)  
**

**A note on the telepathy bit:** The Doctor's use of telepathy occurs with his very first incarnation in _**The Sensorites**_. And then again in the 10th Doctor. The fourth doctor in Ark in Space seemed to hook himself up to a computer in order to read the mind of the resident giant insect. And he was known to hypnotize Sarah. There are likely other examples, but that is what sticks with me...

The Seventh Doctor was extremely persuasive when dealing with his enemies. And seemed to face off with them, mind to mind. Also, the TARDIS itself is described as telepathic and perhaps this would affect those like Sarah Jane who had spent so much time aboard – giving them a bit of a link. So, even though I do not remember the Seventh Doctor ever literally reading someone's mind, I felt it not an unfair license to take.


	4. Chapter 4

From the doorway, she watched him pacing the garden. If she didn't know better, she would take this for a jilted man's show of wounded pride. But this was the Doctor. So, if it wasn't romantic jealousy, then what was it? Just ordinary possessiveness?

Well, that she _**could**_ believe.

And it could easily be that he felt betrayed by the painful things that Alastair had said.

But even if she could guess what was bothering him, she wouldn't dare go out there. What could she say? _Sorry you had to see me launching myself at Alastair?_ _I'm sorry you had to hear all of that?_

_**Sorry?!**_ _Ha!_ He had brought it on himself when he had listened in on her thoughts. If she went out there to try to smooth things out, she'd likely end up slapping him over it. She had purposely not wanted him to know about events with their mutual friend.

_And that is what he likely picked up on_, she thought.

This one, _**this**_ Doctor, seemed to function like that. Like a spy.

She considered it. The way his personality had seemed to change as they spoke, as if he was locking on to a target. She had felt compelled to tell the story half out loud and half in her brain. It was almost like being hypnotized by him all over again.

The man owed her an apology. Routing around in her brain? God, she was angry.

So, _**why**_ did she feel sorry for him?

/// /// ///

She looked out a half hour later and he was gone.

Her stomach dropped out as she scanned the yard and realized he had left. But she couldn't afford to think about him. Looking for a distraction, she set to cooking. And when the pots were all clattering away, she began to clean. She didn't dare let her mind loose to wonder if he had just gone on a quick walkabout or if he had scampered for good.

She was reorganizing a cupboard when she heard the door push open. He looked sullen and confused. Was this Time Lord contrition? He walked over wordlessly and stood in front of her with his eyes on his shoes. She was surprised then when he produced a day lily from behind his back with quick-fingered precision.

Was she madder still that he could not form an adult apology or endeared by this childlike behavior? She didn't know.

"Where did you get that flower?" she asked with a quirk to her lips. "It is rather bad form to bring a flower in apology that you have nicked from the offended lady's garden."

"I thought about that actually. I squeezed through the hedge. Nicked it from your neighbor instead."

She tried not to smile, but it was a lost cause. Still, he didn't stay in the kitchen long enough to even meet her eyes. He dropped his head again, ran a hand over his jaw as if in thought, and then continued out toward the living room.

It would not be the first time he had needed quiet and space. And so they barely spoke for the rest of day.

///

The next afternoon, he brushed past her, unsettling her. His movements were quick, made frantic looking because of his small frame. He was back to his old manic self suddenly.

"Are we fighting?" she asked, as he rumbled past her.

"Of course not."

_Liar,_ she thought with a wry smile. The more he said 'of course' the less anything seemed to be true.

"I'm hoping what happened yesterday was inadvertent," she said. "Or at the very least, something you will try not to do again?"

"Of course."

"Could you say, 'yes'?" she inquired, firmly.

He held up his palm like a wayward Boy Scout, "I promise."

"And I'm sorry, too," she said, although in truth, she had noticed he had not actually apologized. She grabbed his sleeve so he could not get away from her. "I've been angry and petty. Punishing you over the past and my own little mid-life crisis. I am going to try hard not to hold you responsible for the passage of time. I'd rather think about now than the past."

He finally held still. He looked pleased. Happy, maybe, to hear they could let go of some of what had come before. He smiled, raised a finger as if he would pat her nose with it. He stopped himself then and ran his finger tips down her cheek instead. Just for a moment touching his thumb to her lips. It was something he had done years ago, in a silent moment when there was nothing to say, when he had seemed to want to let her know that she was valued.

But today the touch lingered. And his thumb's slow course across her lips, made her shiver.

She tried to read his eyes and the message in the way he held his head. Tried to decide if she was a science experiment or a person to him.

If he had been an ordinary, regular fellow, she would have thought he was contemplating kissing her.

But there was no way of knowing what went on in the Doctor's head.

This was the first intimate thing he had done since being back. It was such a mixture of him, old and new. And he seemed to realize that too in the way his movements changed. Fluxed. From fluid to halting and back again. And his eyes sparked with each abandoned gesture.

"You aren't always sure who you are, are you?" she ventured, gently.

"No. That's not it. I'm not always sure I want to be who I am." He paused. "Is that worse?" He groaned then. "I am wondering if you'll ever learn to trust me again. I came here thinking it would be obvious that I'm not the man I was."

She stepped away from him. "I won't make the same mistake I did. Having expectations. Thinking that I might understand you completely. The most important thing I learned was that you aren't a _**man**_ at all," she said lowly, echoing the old conversation she had had with Alastair.

"The Brigadier," he fumed with blazing, rolling Rs, "was biased. He wanted..."

So, his recall of her memory was apparently rather vivid, she thought with a flash of anger and embarrassment. "**THAT** was private!" she warned him. "And you have got it _**quite**_ backwards. I initiated all of it," she said, spitefully before she stormed out of the living room and headed upstairs.

///

He stared at the ceiling for a minute, as if enlightment would come to him there. And then he climbed the stairs two at a time after her. He was down the hall and pushing through her closed door without giving it a second thought.

The second thoughts came when he was staring down at her as she lay in her bed.

Her eyes were open now, and she was fixing him with a deadly glare. Suddenly, he realized he really had not planned what he would say.

"All right," Sarah said, testily. "You tap into my thoughts and now you are walking into my bedroom unannounced. Should we review some basic manners for your stay on Earth? Let's start with the mind reading, shall we? I didn't even know you could DO that! Hypnosis, yes. But now you can just pop into my mind at will?"

"No. Not really. And I hadn't intended it."

"But you did it!"

"Yes. Accidentally. Sort of," he equivocated, roughly.

"Oh, give it up, Doctor! You sat there and eavesdropped on my memory. Are you that vain?"

"No! I could tell there was something there. Something that would make me.... "

"Possessive? Angry?" she demanded.

"Yes, ... and yes!"

"Jealous?!" she asked, And she held her breath for the answer.

"Yes," he said, sadly. "I thought I wanted you to find someone. I didn't want it to be _**him**_, I suppose. I didn't want to hear him say those things about me. _**And**_ have you believe them." _And then _**_reward _**_him for his sedition by latching on to him like that_, he thought.

"How much of the universe do you think you can control? We just all belong to you, is that it? And we are supposed to react and do exactly as you predict? Be mad, if you want. But don't blame him. I basically begged him to kiss me."

"I made you that miserable?" he said, sinking down as if the strength was pulled from him.

She groaned. "A woman does not have to be miserable to kiss Alastair, Doctor. He would have been quite the coup if I had held on to him. And I was miserable because I was not with you. Because you were not coming back. And because you could never be who I wanted you to be. Nothing hurts as much as that does... loving the wrong person," she said finishing in a whisper.

"I need your patience, Sarah Jane. I came back. That means something."

"But what, Doctor?" she asked, sadly. "I don't know what it means to you. I don't know what makes you do things." She paused and breathed hard. "Maybe it means you were lonely. You were hurt? You said I was some sort of memory you couldn't get rid of. I keep expecting you to tell me that you need me for some _**plot **_of yours_**,**__" _she said, sarcastically. "That I was implanted with some alien time essence or something and you need me to plug into a machine somewhere...."

The emotion swelled in him like a Krynoid intent on capturing his vocal chords. "Oh, Sarah... I need you for _**me**_," he managed.

Slowly then, he stretched out next to her on top of the coverlet. She lay back down, and he turned to face her and waited.

"Shoes," was all she said, as she looked into his eyes.

"What?"

"Shoes. Off."

They lay wordlessly staring at each other. He seemed to not move at all, but she heard the heavy wing tips hit the floor. And she had to laugh.

She studied his face. And finally weakening toward him, she reached out to touch his hair. She thought of all the times in their travels they had ended up in a pile on the floor, lying as they were now. And all the times she had tended an insensible or wounded Doctor and touched him like this.

"The worst of it was when I sat beside you and watched you ...die," she said with suddenly full eyes. "I thought I'd really lost you... before you managed to regenerate."

"I am so damn selfish, Sarah. I knew it even then. But it didn't stop me." She looked at him, not understanding.

"Everything I've put you through," he continued, "all because I wanted you with me. And the whole time I _**knew**_ how unfair it was. That if I kept you too long..." he said trailing off.

"What?"

"You'd never find your way back to a normal life. To some regular sort, who could make you happy. Is that what I'm doing now? Coming between you and a chance at a regular life?"

She couldn't answer. She bit her lip rather than even try.

Never before could he have held her gaze so long, she realized. He would have pushed past her by now - manic and uncomfortable - muttering something inane about "running off and being a good girl" or "having a jelly baby." And now he was quiet. Pensive and searching. He was pouting slightly like a worried child working over a problem. And that problem was her, she could tell.

He took a breath and held it expectantly while he reached a single, wavering finger to touch her lower lip. "So selfish that I want to kiss you," she heard him whisper, as if amazed by his own declaration.

"You've kissed me before," she challenged. And they saw each past kiss as they stared at each other. The fatherly ones to the forehead. The chaste kisses to the cheek.

And the time they had kissed half seriously years ago. Seriously enough to make that ill-equipped Time Lord know he could never do that again.

And enough to make her realize she loved him. Hopelessly.

His arm was around her now and she felt buoyed. Her body hummed. But it was one-sided foolishness, she knew. He wouldn't feel that sort of thing at all.

"Just this once," she said, sensing the kiss was coming.

And it was everything that previous kiss had been. Electric. Breathless. _And, oddly enough,_ she thought as she opened her eyes. _He is still here._

"Oh, Sarah," he said, sounding quite affected by the kiss. And with incredible slowness he leaned in to kiss her again. She met his lips for only a moment before she forced herself to pull away.

She pushed him back, as her mind begged for emotional self-preservation. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Kissing?" he said, too lightly.

"But why?"

And then his eyes took on a look of complete confusion. He might not really know why, she had to consider.

"How much, Doctor? How far will you push me? Have you graduated from meaningless hand holding to meaningless kisses? Or is this because of Alastair? Some sort of Gallifreyan monkey see-monkey do?

"What?!"

"Or was this part of the agenda before the trip into my memories?"

"My agenda? I came here to be with you. But I'm not trying to worm my way into your bed..."

She raised her eyebrows at him as if to point out that he was already IN her bed.

He sat up and swung his legs to the floor. "The TARDIS brought me here, but not as a lark. It was more along the lines of a mutiny. Or an act of desperation," he continued, holding his head. "I couldn't manage the ship. It was moving. Going and not ever getting anywhere," he said, plaintively. "Lost. Not that I cared." He groaned then and stood up. He began to wander the floor. "I'd been alone for.... I don't know how long at that point," he said in frustration.

And she felt herself weaken a bit towards him. She knew he did not function well on his own. That even when she had felt like nothing more than a ill-used crutch, she had been a crutch he badly needed.

"Seeing you in your garden... It was all so much like the day I regenerated at UNIT. Do you remember what I said to you then? I'd returned the crystal, and you met me at the TARDIS door..."

"You said you had been stuck in a vortex....you were too weak to operate the TARDIS..."

"...Then I told you that the TARDIS brought me _**'home.'**_ Sarah, I didn't mean Earth or UNIT. I meant to _**you,**_ " he said for emphasis. "I was afraid." And she shook her head at him, plainly not believing such a thing was possible. "I didn't know if my regeneration would work. That bit of consciousness that clung to you, panicked - frightened of being lost.

"Iniside the TARDIS, I only had the strength to call out for you and then just hang on," he said. He walked over to where she was sitting. His hand came up to brush at her cheek, just as it had then. "The pain was numbing," he continued. "But when I opened the door, you were there. I got what I wanted." He smiled an odd little smile, seemingly caught up in the memory. "But is that fair?

"It takes a selfish sort to put you through that," he said, sounding resigned. "And this time? I was living half a life, and I was losing my grip on even that little. Again, the TARDIS brought me to you. To live this time, instead of dying? To make you catch me again? What if you don't want to? I don't know," he grumbled. "What am I doing? That's what you asked me" he said, touching her lips. "Still being selfish, maybe. Because I need you. I need the way you make me feel. The kisses, Sarah? It was like everything else, perhaps. Further proof of my self-indulgance."

"I don't know what to say," she admitted, sounding pained.

"For all the time we spent together, you don't know me. Now. And maybe not then."

"It does feel like that."

"Good night, Sarah," he said, abruptly. With quick movements, he grabbed his shoes and walked for the door.

///

"You're a sneak, that's what you are, Evelyn." It was the next morning, and Sarah was working through the surprise she felt over having a visitor.

"That is what you get for working in the journalism department, Sarah Jane. Yes, all your friends are sneaks." The woman said this rather proudly. "You'll have to try harder if you don't want to raise the alarm. Boyd said he called with the fall schedule and you never called back. I left a message telling you that you were getting stuck with all the evening courses and I don't hear a thing! So, give."

"It's nothing," Sarah lied. "Just a house guest. A rather unexpected visitor." And Sarah Jane motioned out the window to the man who was parading around her rose garden.

"Is he some Russian scientist? A spy? A circus performer? What?" Sarah's graying friend demanded. The woman had her nose a mere inch from the window and was peering into the garden. The doctor had finished fencing with the day lilies and had now tucked his umbrella under his arm.

"He's an old friend," Sarah explained. "I hadn't seen him in years. He just showed up a few days a go."

"He's adorable in a completely eccentric sort of way," the cropped-haired woman coo'd. "I mean.... if you are sure that he is perfectly sane."

"I'm not," Sarah said with a sigh. The Doctor was poking about in her flower beds now, picking up errant pots, and stacking them on the end of his umbrella. "But he needed some place to re-couperate."

"A break down?" Evelyn asked, excitedly.

"Just over-work, I think," Sarah said.

"What does he do?"

"Oh, hush-hush stuff," Sarah said, working to avoid Evelyn's eyes.

"Well that must be what I see, that element of intrigue and mystery. Very sexy. I bet he is a smart one."

"Almost to the point of being hopeless," Sarah said. "So... you can go back and tell everyone that I'm alive and well. Right, Evelyn?" But Sarah could see the elder woman's attention was completely lost. Stepping closer, Sarah saw that the Doctor was now juggling three of her clay pots. The scowl of concentration on his face drew Sarah's attention. "Do you REALLY think he is adorable?" Sarah felt compelled to ask.

"Almost to the point of being hopeless," Evelyn answered with a cheeky grin. "You see it, too," she accused, "or you wouldn't bother asking. How long is he staying with you?" Sarah's eyes turned to Evelyn and regarded her curiously. "Oh, don't worry, Sarah. I won't try to pinch him from you. I was just wondering."

"Well, honestly, I keep thinking I'll wake up and find him gone. That's just the sort he is."

"Has he tried anything yet? You know," Evelyn said in response to the odd look she got. "Has he tried to kiss you or whisk you off to bed."

Sarah didn't answer, but she felt herself color. Finally, she reminded herself to breathe.

Evelyn began to grin. "I'll take that as a 'yes.' Well, you know what I think?" Evelyn said over Sarah's objection.

"That he's adorable," Sarah jumped in, sarcastically.

"He could have gone anywhere, right? A government scientist or whatever he is... but he came _**here**_. To you. So, pursue this. I mean, Sarah.... How long has it been..."

"Evelyn," Sarah scolded. "Shhhh. The windows are open."

"Oh, he can't hear us," Evelyn objected.

The Doctor stopped then, dropped the pots lightly to the dirt, and waved his hat at the two women.

"I'll be damned," Evelyn whispered, her eyebrows high with awe.

///

"Will your friend be coming by again?" the Doctor asked with a conspiratorial wink.

"I am glad to see you less melancholy. Truly, Doctor. But I can't help but worry that presently it is at _**my**_ expense," Sarah complained.

"I only ask because she seems so.... perceptive."

"Because she called you 'adorable?' " she said with clear disapproval.

"Oh, don't snow on my parade, Sarah Jane. It's been 200 years since anyone called me 'adorable.' It was the Gerritick women of Winapaak," he said wistfully, indicating a size far above his own head. "They would pick me up and pet me...."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "Well, the TARDIS is right down the street. Winapaak awaits! Or.... Evelyn is just across town. Take your pick."

He took off his hat and tossed it across the room so that it skidded to a halt on her buffet. Then he made a production of getting comfortable on the couch, ending with hugging a pillow to his chest. The message was clear. He had made a different choice.

"Would it help if someone told you, you are adorable too?" he asked with an impish look.

"Adorable is not that big of a coup," she said, before she reddened. "So Evelyn thinks you are adorable," she said trying to cover herself. "The problem is you are not ...reliable. I can't trust that what you are today, you'll be tomorrow. How can I know that the way you treat me one moment will last. That what you do, means ... something. Something real, something consistent. I need you to be able to tell me what you are after."

He had no reply. His eyes gradually lost focus and settled on the window.

"Doctor?" she complained.

"Hmm? Just thinking," he said, sounding irritable and distracted.

_That much was consistent_, she told herself.

///


	5. Chapter 5

**A****/N: As I was telling Primsong, there are only the 7 of us here. So, don't be shy. **

**I am trying not to over-think this story. **

**This chapter leads off with 'the elephant in the room.'**

**So, the warning reads : There is a (rather oblique) discussion of sexuality.**

* * *

She had left him down stairs that night and headed up to bed. The day should be over, but her mind would not quiet down. Of course, an overactive mind was nothing new for Sarah Jane Smith. But it had been years since she had thought this hard over her visitor.

If he had been listening (and she did always wonder about that), yesterday, he would have heard her admit that she had been in love with him.

What does that even mean to him? He hadn't seemed to even flinch when she'd said it. Did that mean he had known all along? Or that he really still hadn't heard her? Or perhaps stating that you had been in love with someone was the Gallifrey equivilent of, "My, what a nice shirt."

She lay staring at the ceiling, and she wondered why she hadn't tackled the elephant in the room yet. Why hadn't she (a woman who was rather fearless when it came to words) simply asked him._ "Are you asexual? Do you form romantic attachments?" _

Before, when she was traveling with him she didn't want to force the answer. Young and hopeful, she couldn't risk hearing that her companion viewed her as nothing more than a playmate in his childlike brain....

_He's still awake down there_, she thought. And with a groan, she dragged herself out of bed. She would do this. Finish it. Finally, have the conversation that was more than a decade overdue. And she'd get a real answer out of the slippery fellow, too. Not one of those half answers. It was an easy enough question, after all.

...

"Hello again," he said. He was standing with his arms behind him, surveying her book case.

"I couldn't sleep. I wanted to ask you a question."

"Yes?" he said, distractedly.

She decided the bookcase might be her segue into this. "You've read Shakespeare?"

"Yes," he said, narrowing his gaze at her. _Obviously, that was a non-question_, he thought nervously. _She had known the answer to that one_.

"But do you get it? It is filled with such human concerns. And I was just wondering if, as it is filed with... well, human sexual innuendo, if you really _**get**_ it."

"You want to know if I 'get' human sexual innuendo or if I 'get' Shakespeare?"

"Innuendo. Or well, just sex," She was blazing hot with embarrassment now. The flush in her had gone full body.

"Just because I don't go around acting as if sex is some sort of imperative. Inserting it into every situation..." he said, irritably.

His unintentional double entendre was out there. It was the _**new**_ elephant in the room. Eminently scarier and unfortunately for Sarah, funnier.

She couldn't control herself a minute longer. She pinched at her brow and laughed nervously. Then she groaned.

"This is why I never asked before," she explained, lowering herself on to the couch quickly.

"What did I say?" he demanded.

"It," she said with her head down. "Inserting it... I'm sorry."

"Sex," he said, testily, "I mean that I don't feel the need to put sex into every situation. Or to see it in _**everything**_ someone says," he scolded.

"The way I do? Is that what you mean? Oooh, why do you even want to hang around the filthy lot of us and our sex-obsessed brains?"

"For the most part, you are really a pleasure."

"If a man and a woman are going to be friends .... well, on this planet... you have to address the sexual aspect. Not always out loud. Sometimes it is unspoken. But it has to be understood.

"So, you and the Brigadier had this figured out?" he asked with obvious disbelief. "And you and Harry?" His eyebrow was surely scathing now.

"Yes. I told Harry I wanted to stay friends," she said with emphasis. "And with Alastair, the difference came after his divorce when I stopped calling him 'Brigadier' all the time and he started called me ''Sarah' when we were alone. The part where you are calling someone by a title or honorific _**usually**_ signals that you want to keep the relationship uncomplicated...._**Doctor**_. But there are obvious exceptions. Some people seem to lack informal names..."

"R-r-right," he said, carefully. He took a step backwards as if feeling like he was completely outgunned.

"But operating with all this subtext doesn't make us obsessed," Sarah Jane protested.

"No? Well, I have just spent more time discussing this than I have in 75 years. But fine, we will not call this an 'obsession.'"

"You are uncomfortable with this discussion?"

His pride was wounded now. She could see it. It was such a predictable part of his personality in any incarnation.

"Uncomfortable?!" he said, his voice rising a tad. "No. I just don't see this as .... necessary."

"Well, I suppose that answers my question then...."

"And you complain about how vague I am!" He paused and drew in a deep breath before continuing. "You recognize that there are different stages in a being's life, correct? If we were talking about a human male who was 102, you wouldn't need to think too hard about the friendship. Right?"

"Right. So, Time Lords have stages then and this affects their sexuality?" she asked, cautiously.

"That is one way of looking at it.... but the stages are not linear. You don't start out asexual and childlike and go through a sappy adolescence and then a crazed young adulthood... Some of it is in the regeneration. Some of it has to do with your point in a regeneration. And **a lot** of it is the choice. Control."

"The Doctor that I met... I only ask because he seemed a little..."

"What?!" He sounded offended again.

"Interested..." she said, pronouncing the word very carefully. "He.... You, back then. You seemed to ... like women. But you didn't do anything much about it, though."

"Yes," was all he said. And with that he pulled a book from her shelf. _Not Shakespeare_, she noted. But it was a sign he was ending their talk, regardless.

"And now?" she asked, but he wouldn't look at her. "Because kissing someone..."

"I'll be more careful," he said, without sparing her a glance. And he turned a bit more, giving her his back to look at.

Whether she had her answer or not, the discussion was obviously over.

///

"I think," he drawled as he picked up his toast at breakfast. "Well, I think, I should move the TARDIS..." he finished, carefully.

He went on chewing his toast and pretending not to be anxiously waiting for her reaction.

"Where are you off to?" she asked, giving him a perfectly schooled response.

"No where. It's just that I can't leave the TARDIS where it is."

She stopped the dissection of her breakfast and looked at him, hoping there would be some clue in his expression. Was he being coy? _Oh_, she thought, _when was he not?!_ She picked up her toast and nibbled it slowly, emphasizing that no answer was coming from her any time soon.

"I don't suppose," he said with a nervous swallow, "that there's a part of your garden that needs a police box in it? Maybe we could get the roses trained to climb the outside of it." He gave her a feeble smile then.

Her brain locked up at his words. And then threw itself backwards. Flashing to the men who had asked to marry her. Who offered adoration and comfort. Men who had tried to win her over. And failed.

She stared, amazed, and pondered her realization that all this unassuming traveller had to do was suggest moving a wooden box and he had those men beaten. With that small offer, he made her forget all the warning she had given herself.

He looked at her silently. Expectantly. His eyes seeming sad and his mouth worried. Her heart and her head were puzzling it out. Do I trust him? Do I dare? Sure, he is the Doctor… but he isn't that one I fell in love with. What about all those things Alastair said about him? And all those things I _**know**_ to be true about him?

"What is it, Sarah. What's the matter?"

"I'm just confused."

"I'm trying to tell you I want to stay a bit, at least. Perhaps I am not doing that well."

"You aren't the one I fell for," she whispered. "He's gone. It's as if he's dead. Is it all right to say that?"

And he nodded silently.

"And _**you**_ now... I don't understand, you," she continued. "He couldn't have done any of this. Stayed still this long. Tried to treat me well. But he is the one I loved. So, why do I still punish _**you**_ for all of his faults? God, I feel so guilty and... scared."

He had been about to take her hand, but thought it best to wait suddenly. "It might sort itself out," he suggested.

"Tell me I'm not just some piece you need so you don't feel lonely. Tell me Alastair was wrong."

"He _**was**_ wrong. Close your eyes, Sarah." She did, and he then stood from his chair and walked behind her.

"What are you up to?" she said, and she strained to peek without letting him see her doing it.

"Let's think about who I am, hmm? Old and new. But, no peeking!" And he slipped his hand around to cover her eyes. Then he leaned close to her ear.

He cleared his throat, closed his own eyes for a moment and tried to imagine himself the way he was. "That's a good girl," he said. The accent was gone and the voice was nearly as rich and deep as she remembered.

That familiar rhythm was there, she noticed. She had to smile at his words. 'Good girl.' That was what he had always called her. She knew then what he was doing. Helping her see that it was all the same fellow. The same man changed. "I let you go. Sooner or later I had to let you go. Back then, hmmm? I couldn't do the right things. It wasn't part of who I was."

"And now?"

"Now, Sarah," he said, letting his voice rise again and regain its accent. "Now," he began as he let his hand fall away from her eyes. "I'm here because I..."

He was stuck. Whatever the words were, he couldn't get them out once she was looking at him.

She stood up and laid a hand on his chest. "Would you kiss me again?" she wondered, quietly. "I don't know what it means. And I know you said you were going to be 'careful.' Whatever that means..." Her words were running away from her now. Propelled by nervousness and the sense that it was now or never. "And I know I'm not at all what I was. And neither are you. And this is ridiculous, because nothing will work. But..."

His finger came up to still her lips and then his mouth was on hers. Tentative again. Beautifully tentative. And she knew it was because he wanted to kiss her just right. And maybe wanting that _**did**_ mean something.

"I was never very good at being careful," he whispered.

"No, me neither."

///

She stood a short distance away, anxiously watching him pace and survey the spot they had picked for the TARDIS to re-materialize. He turned in a small circle with a hand held unit he had pulled from his coat pocket. And then he licked a finger and held it to the wind as if to confirm his findings.

When he turned around with a flourish to address her, she was gone.

He found her in the kitchen, nervously wiping down the already spotless counter tops.

"You really don't trust me," he said, gently.

"I don't trust the universe. And if I was to tell you that I was afraid you were likely to just disappear on me again when you get in that TARDIS – for good this time... then you might think I don't trust you. And I didn't want you to think that."

"Or if you told me all that, I might think you were afraid of my knowing that you don't _**want**_ me to disappear."

"There is that, too."

"Then come with me," he said, as he took up her hand and began to walk for the door.

"Wait!" she chided him, pulling her hand back with impatience.

"Sarah?" he complained, looking at his wet, empty hand.

"It was the sponge," Sarah Jane told him, as she threw it toward the sink.

///

He opened the TARDIS door and stood aside with a sweeping, gallant gesture, but she baulked.

"Oh, no. You go first," she told him, warily. He took her hand and walked in with her trailing.

"I've missed this," he said, looking first around the control room and then at her.

"The TARDIS?" she asked, softly, feeling that pang that reminded her that with him the TARDIS always came first.

"THIS," he said excitedly and with a tone of correction. He squeezed her hand. "Me, you, your hand in mine. That walk into the TARDIS. The notion that things are possible. _**Good**_ things. And that we are together."

"Excitement and hope," she said.

"Yes."

He let go of her to touch a button on the console. The lights grew brighter and the walls began to hum.

He looked around happily, and Sarah felt a bit like the other woman, until he said, "She's glad to have you back, too."

He flicked another switch and jazz music began to come from the ceiling, "Dance?" he asked, as he reached for her and pulled her in. It wasn't the most polished move. Still, she was impressed.

"I didn't know you danced," she said smiling, moving as best she could with him.

"It comes and goes," he said. And she felt him shift his hand to her hip. The damn man was going to try to spin her.

"Comes and goes," she said when she snapped back to him and latched on to his shoulder. "Like wanting certain types of relationships... and the invasive mind reading thing?"

"I thought we had dropped that," he said, trying to look hurt.

And finally, he slowed down until they were barely moving. He rocked her back and forth then, smiling. "Let's go dancing, Sarah Jane. Swing dancing."

"I don't know where to do that around here. And, well, ok, I'm fairly rubbish at it."

"You, my dear, are lovely.... especially when you let me lead," he assured her. "And let me worry about the where.... or are you forgetting with whom you speak?" he asked with a dramatic flair.

"Oh, goodness," she said, suddenly standing completely still with realization.

He turned without preamble and began to work the console. "Benny Goodman, I think. That West Coast tour before they hit the big time."

"I love Benny Goodman!" Sarah was horrified to hear herself nearly gushing.

She earned an ear-to ear -grin from the doctor. "R-r-r-right!" he announced. "Hold on!"

///

_**A/N: Thanks for reading!!!**_


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Some T-ish flirtation and some adult soul searching.**

* * *

"Smashing," he said in response to the new outfit she wore. But he quickly turned his attention to a read-out to confirm the location, "The Palomar Ballroom, Los Angeles. August 21, 1935."

It was a short walk through an alley to a side door of the ballroom. The fire exit kindly yielded to his sonic screw driver, and they were in. The band was already playing. The floor was full of couples dancing. And the walls were littered with collegiate types laughing and eyeing each other. And eyeing them now. They were easily the oldest people there. Older than Benny Goodman himself, she thought eerily.

His arm came around her, low on her back, and as she was contemplating the intimate feel of it, his left hand snaked down her arm to close around her hand. She felt his lips at her ear, and the shiver down her spine made her eyes snap closed. It would have been an able try at seduction, had the man not whispered, "Jitterbug."

And they were off.

He pulled her in after an underarm pass, and winked and smiled at her. And then he was pushing her back and away again before she could think or say a thing.

She eyed him cautiously, trying her best to keep up with what he was doing. He came to her rescue then, pulling her closer in, slowing down, and smiling reassuringly. They turned in a tight circle and his cool hand splayed against her lower back to keep her snug against him.

Did he know what he was doing to her, she wondered as she held his eye. This was dancing, but any normal man would see the flirtation in it.

"Better, yes?" he asked her. "The Balboa requires a _**close**_ embrace."

Thankfully, he settled on a set of steps that was neither enthusiastic nor too difficult. And just as she was lulled into a false sense of accomplishment, he told her, "Big finish." And she was looping out, which meant, she knew, that she would then be looped back in. But this time he caught her by the ribs, and bending, he lifted her just a bit. He managed it entirely too ably for a small man who looked near 50 and gone soft.

He smiled up at her surprised look and slowly, so very slowly, began to lower her as he turned in a circle. He knew he would kiss her. Even though, he knew he didn't have the right. Knew he was being selfish.

But he knew it would be amazing. It would be unforgiveable to miss this chance.

To Sarah Jane, the whole world was the look on his face as he lowered her against his chest. And just as her toes touched the ground, his lips were on hers.

The crowd was cheering the band, and the walls were echoing with the deafening sound. And he kissed her.

Somewhere in the back corridors of her mind she heard Benny Goodman announce the upcoming piece. Already Gene Krupa was banging out the new beat, and all she could do was kiss him. It was like another full transporting. For the second time that night, she felt as if she had left one world and joined another.

She didn't know if she had ever been kissed like that. If ANYONE on the planet had ever been kissed like that. She felt insanely indiscrete. They were in public and he had just lightly teased her with his tongue to her mouth. His hand had pulled her hips in for just a moment. Warning bells sounded in her brain. But, shamelessly, she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck and admitted to herself that she wanted this. Had wanted this for far too long.

And had given up on it ever happening.

And vaguely then, as she kissed him slower and tried to fathom what else was out there in the world, she remembered the crowd. She heard the clarinet start with a wail. And just barely, she heard a young man say, "Sheesh, that guy is old enough to be my father."

And a woman answered tartly, "You don't see HER complaining."

"I don't see her _**breathing**_!" was the last thing to reach Sarah's ears before she began to laugh into the Doctor's kiss.

They stood now forehead to forehead. He was breathing hard, but she was breathing harder. They were both worn out, but distinctly happy. Slowly, he drew up his chin and lay his lips to her forehead. He gave her what, under the circumstances, felt too much like a public, post-coital kiss of satisfaction and exhaustion. The comparison was complete and awkward in her brain when she heard herself sigh, "By God, you are fantastic."

///

His arm was around her shoulders now, and they walked the sidewalk for the TARDIS. There was newness and familiarity. And a question she couldn't stop. And so, as he fumbled with the key, she asked him, "What was that tonight? When you kissed me...."

"Yes?" he said vaguely, giving her his distracted act, as he pulled her by the hand through the door.

"Is it always like that?"

"You mean when I kiss someone? I don't remember," he said, unsuccessfully trying to make it sound like an off-handed comment. "You think I have just been traversing the galaxy, _**kissing?**_ I am out there, r-r-r-righting wr-r-rongs! Protecting time! Saving wee ducks from storm drains...." he teased, as he pushed at buttons on the console.

"Fine. Don't tell me."

The whoosh began, and once he was satisfied that everything was working correctly, he turned smartly on his heel and leaned against the console.

"Was there something wrong with the way I kissed you?" he asked with an impish look.

"No," she said, flatly.

"Damn right. It was ruddy fantastic, Sarah Jane," he told her with a cheeky smile. "I saw colors. My toes curled. I heard music.... "

"Very funny."

"Bliss. Perfection," he continued. "Only one problem.... "

"Yes?"

"It makes me want to kiss you more."

It was there in spades. That confidence, that happy, relaxed posture she remembered. All of it still dead-on sexy. But the look? That was new. It was inviting her in. In to him.

///

The ship lurched then, pushing him harder into the console as his eyebrows raised in alarm. He stuck out an arm to catch her neatly, but roughly, around the waist as she careened toward him. Then he turned to the console.

"Unstable?" he moaned. "No. No. No. Really, I fixed this...."

"Oh, the TARDIS is unstable all right. She's JEALOUS! I've seen it all now," Sarah said, tartly.

"What a ridiculous thing to say. You have NOT seen it ALL," the Doctor objected without even raising his eyes from the read-out. He shook his head, tapped the console. And then gently pushed a lever forward. "Better, see?" he said more to the TARDIS than Sarah.

It was not lost on Sarah that the Doctor did not refute her assertion that the TARDIS might be jealous.

"You have work to do," she said, lowly. She was getting the words out there before he could be the one to say them. The disappointment, obvious... well, to someone more aware, perhaps. The Doctor responded as he would have years ago, negating all the wonder that had transpired for those brief hours they were together.

"Won't take long," he said. Oh, she had heard that before.

"I'll go get changed. And lie down," she said from the door way. And then she lingered. Watched him. He was lost in concentration, his forehead scrunched. His hand came up to scratch at his head.

///

She changed her clothes slowly. Her mind turning. Her emotions refusing to lie still. She would have sworn it couldn't get worse. Years ago she had told herself, _'He never really gave you any reason to hope. Never did anything to lead you on._' Tonight was, sadly, the most exhilarating night she had had in years. But it doesn't mark the beginning of anything, she had to remind herself. It is just something he leaps into and leaps out of.

_The Doctor is now the universe's most accomplished tease,_ she thought with a groan, _without even trying._

She was purposely set on avoiding her old room. There would likely be a couch she could curl up on in the galley. But there her room stood, pulling her eyes in, making her stop. It wasn't what it looked like, but what it smelled like that got her then. She swore her old perfume was hanging in the air. A trick of her memory, she thought.

The room was empty except for her old bed, a table, and chair. The sheets were pulled up, but rumpled.

_This is a mistake_, she told herself, even as she reached for the pillow and pulled it to her. _What you need is distance_, her brain implored.

Too late. Something lurched, trembled inside her. A dozen forgotten emotions. _Oh, and none of them good_, her brain warned. He'd been here. Spent hours lying here, she knew.

She could smell him on the pillow. It was something she had not realized she had cataloged quite so precisely. The air, right before it rains. That was him. As if you can smell the electrical charge in the clouds. As if you can smell a storm coming. And you wonder, pulling it in, is this a good cleansing rain, the kind you welcome on your skin? Or a reason to take shelter...

Her muscles felt tapped suddenly. And her stomach weak. It was desire. There was no lying to herself anymore. It was undeniable. Surrender brought a groan up from her throat.

Years, it had taken her to keep from dreaming of him. To keep her imagination away from thoughts of him.

///

She curled up on the bed, pulled herself in as tight as she could, and let herself feel. She had to know, what would it be, what form would it take? What would her heart tell her it wanted? She breathed deeply and gave her imagination leave to show her what she craved and lacked.

_Him. _

_This new him, she realized with a start. She wished she could know all of him. Body. Mind. _

_It was this latest Time Lord that she envisioned, slowly pulling her into an embrace. Then moving her to lie with him on this bed. They were clothed and chaste, as they had been at her house. _

_He was in her mind now, he knew her desire to feel him along every inch of her. Wordlessly, he covered her body with his to answer that unspoken need. _

_Holding him like that, in this dream, she could see inside him finally. His eyes assured her, he was knowable, and that he was hers._

_Suddenly, those eyes flickered. Changed. Became that old gentleman's. And for just a moment, the voice that whispered her name belonged to her tall friend. _

_They were barely moving, but to breathe. But there was no guessing, at last. No more wondering what he was thinking or feeling. Finally knowing what he felt and desired was deliverance and release. _

_The weight of him was answer and promise. A bit of relief pledged against the desire she felt._

_But all of it was just a dream. A fool's fantasy._

...

"Sarah!" it was the Scottish lilt. Innocent and happy. Almost a child's voice, high with the thrill of a game of hide and seek, calling her out of her daydream. "I found you."

"Yes," she said, startled. "I think that's the problem."

"What is the problem?" he asked, confused. He could see she was flushed. "It might be the room," he said then, answering his own question.

She noticed then that he was still in the doorway, as if unwilling to come in.

"I could smell my old perfume when I came in. That's real isn't it?" she said with a flicker of understanding.

"Yes," he admitted, guiltily.

"And this room doesn't sit empty. You..." _How to phrase this_, she wondered... "You spend time in here."

"I needed a place to think," he explained, carefully.

"That smells like _**me**_? This is a little unwell seeming," she told him. She still felt hot sitting there. Still felt the faint pulse in her gut that was physical attraction. And her eyes flashed to him, "It is more than a bit of perfume. You've done something to this room," she accused.

"It is, as I said, a place to think. And that is amplified somewhat by a closer connection with the alive bits of the TARDIS. A bit of telepathy. A bit of augmentation. Feedback, I suppose, on behalf of the TARDIS is possible in here."

"Ah, so it is for thinking. Not a, um, a specific type of thought."

"Sarah Jane?" he asked with a quirky smile.

She stood up, eyes on the doorway and the hall beyond. She pushed passed him quickly.

"Not a word," she said, staring him down from her spot against the corridor's far wall.

"I didn't say a thing."

"You look entirely too smug."

"It's the new face. I get that all the time," he lied, because he was feeling smug and amused. "Do you want to lie down?" he said more gently.

"Why would I want to lie down?" she demanded.

"You were lying down when I found you," he said, sounding confused. "You had left the console room saying you were tired and wanted to..."

"Okay. I remember," she said holding up her hand to stop him. "Let's just sit somewhere."

The room he pulled her into was like an arboretum. There were tall plants, a fountain gone dry. Finally, a couch where she expected a bench.

He sat down and then reached up to tug at her hand.

"I don't think I can tell you what I was thinking about in there," she warned him.

"But I'm your friend, Sarah Jane."

She laughed. "That's the problem. In there, I was able to see what I wanted to be true. But that was a fantasy. And the reality is that you are going to break my heart again. If I let you. It was bad enough before. And now..."

"I'm not trying to hurt you..." he insisted.

"You don't need to try. God forbid you put your mind to it. That would finish it. Before, it was just banter and hand holding. A closeness that could have been seen as innocent. A lack of understanding on your part for those things. But now..."

"But now?"

"_**This**_ Doctor kisses. Not like before. I mean, really, really kisses."

He leaned in as if he had received a cue that a kiss was what she wanted. She put her hand full on his face and pushed him back. The smug look was finally gone. Confusion was in its place. _God, that felt good,_ she told herself. _I can at least confuse him._

"Yes, so you kiss me now," she told him. "But it still means nothing. It is just something you do. A new personality tick. Like the head scratching was... _**is**_. Or the umbrella tapping. The pouting."

"I don't pout."

She rolled her eyes.

"It's not a tick!" he insisted.

She was on her feet now, needing the distance. Needing the chance to move. "Why did you kiss me, _**like that,**_ tonight?"

He was standing now, keeping his distance. Involuntarily, his hand went to his head and he scratched at his scalp while he searched for the right words.

Watching him, she laughed unhappily and had to turn away. "I used to ask myself why you _**never**_ kissed me. How you could be just on the verge of it, and it never happened. And now when you kiss me, I STILL can't understand you. I tried to get you to just tell me what was going on the other night, and you were vague as hell. 'I'll be careful,' you said. What does that mean?"

She turned back to see him, her eyes lit with realization. "Oh, God. It just means you are feeling better. You are _**fixed**_ now," she said with a bitter laugh. "You're happy. Your old playful self. You'll just leave now, won't you?"

"No," he said, staunchly. That answer had come so easily from him, with such surety, that it gave her a small measure of peace. And she found herself walking closer to him. Looking at him, examining his serious expression. "You were the right girl. You were always the one. And _**I **_was wrong." He breathed hard then and the words became less sure. "I just wasn't made right. It's different now. I don't know if it's enough, but I'm _**trying**_, Sarah."

_Different?_ She agreed with that much. _More unguarded at moments like these. More emotionally open to her. _

They met at a Greek pillar in the center of the room. She leaned into it, coming closer to him, but keeping the column between them.

"This Doctor was different from the start," he continued. "I would hear myself say things even I didn't understand.

Sarah gave him a pitiless look. "Now you know what it feels like."

"Oh, not something about space or physics or logic. I remember telling someone what I don't like. And I heard myself say, 'Burnt toast, bus stations....and unrequited love.' '**Unrequited love**,' I thought. What am I talking about? Or **when** am I talking about?

"That kind of love? A Time Lord doesn't love like that. Not normally. There's loving chocolate, chess, natty shoes, and certain types of cats. And then there are people. Relationships," he said, distantly, his hand jangling on the end of his wrist as if indicating something indistinct..

"But it changed," he continued. "As I changed. Like with the dancing, the recorder, or telepathy. All the other things I can sometimes do and sometimes well, I'm _**rubbish.**_ This time was different. Just different enough that I could.... _**feel**_ a little more. Understand emotions a bit more. Like desire. Just a little, but too much maybe. Because when everything went wrong, it became so much harder to carry on.

"I could feel it when the sense of obligation seemed to lift from me. I had finished all the things I was required to. All the things I've been fashioned for, things I barely had the stomach to do. Dark things. Deception. Manipulation. An existence with more enemies than friends. More fight than rest. That drive to finish those things had left me alone.

"But it wasn't relief I felt," he explained. He pressed his lips together then and let his eyes fall closed for a moment, obviously uncomfortable with the admission he would make. "I just wanted it all to be over. I wanted to roll the dice, be someone new. I was that tired, Sarah Jane. Tired to the point of quitting. I had lost almost everything. And those things and people I hadn't lost, I had chased out from spite. I got empty enough that I only wanted to finish the process. Turn inside out. Forget it all. But there were those last pieces inside me. They wouldn't shake loose. Those last bits rattled about. Demanding my attention."

"What were they?" she insisted.

"You. Unrequited love. I wanted to love you back. I wanted to let myself feel desire," he said, shyly. "I could feel that that bit was missing, but close by. It was all I thought about. For a year, I think I lay in that room and thought. Wondering about you. And I poked at that bit of me that cared about you. Enjoyed you. Lived for you. It was the part of me that could still _**feel, **_but it was broken, some how. Or just too small and incapable of growing. It was like a little dust speck. That was all I had left. You and a bit of my soul, a miserable bit of dust." He leaned against the column now and reached around it to take her arm, as if he would hug her despite the barrier. "And you fixed things."

"Me?" she asked, as she extended her arm around to him.

"I put you in charge of the dust speck," he said with a smile. "It was like placing a bit of programmable matter in a simulator, I suppose."

"How could this vague sense of me help?"

"What would you do," he asked, his eyes aching and his voice beginning to break, "if I handed you my soul?"

She managed not to gasp, he noticed. But she tightened her hold on him involuntarily, and her eyes were full of feeling.

"Exactly," he said. "The dust speck got bigger. Healthy looking under 'your' care. It rolled around in there feeling good about you. And I realized one day... that I loved you."

"That is a bollocksed way to tell someone," she said lightly, still not believing what she had heard.

"I've tried to tell you before, I just never got it out. It's not something I have much practice at."

"So, can you tell me? Just tell me what I need to hear?"

"I love you, Sarah Jane."

"I love you, too."

////


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** **Some T rated discussions. Just adults talking like adults and the occasional clothed extra curricular activities. Like falling down :)**

* * *

_"So, can you tell me? Just tell me what I need to hear?"_

_"I love you, Sarah Jane."_

_"I love you, too."_

* * *

They'd said it. Neither had moved any closer. There was no mad rush to kiss. In fact, he was slipping from her grasp. And she was forced to admit he looked ill.

"I'm surprised we haven't been interrupted," she said, looking for something neutral to say. "I expected the TARDIS to let us know that we'd arrived."

"The TARDIS is probably waiting," he grumbled. "As she knows I've been avoiding this...."

"Discussing everything?"

"And repressing..." he said fading off.

"Your sexuality?"

"You are entirely too good at this," he mumbled.

Was it complaint or praise? She couldn't be sure.

"I'm not," she objected. "I'm a mess right now. But it sounds like the TARDIS, in all her wisdom, is ahead of us. So, she's been waiting for us to get over this hurtle before letting us know we were back home?"

"I could tell we had arrived, though...." he said, the voice sounding odd. He took a full step away now.

She decided she wouldn't watch this slip away. Not now. "What's happening to you? What changed? I mean.... I KNOW what we just said. That changes things. But you seem so very hesitant now. Reluctant to even let me near you. Was it easier to kiss me, to touch me before you admitted how you felt?"

"Telling you... Hearing that you loved me, too..."

"It all got very _**real**_ suddenly?" she said, gently, coming up behind him.

"Like standing next to Pandora's Box," he tried to joke, but his smile failed. "And the lid's just sprung. Everything's out now. Those things I had purposely locked away."

"It feels like that? That sort of uncontrollable, regrettable, 'I've made a horrid mistake' feeling?" she asked, sadly.

"For now, yes," he said with an equivocating wag of his head. "You manage these feelings all the time," he tried to explain as she backed away. "There is no sense of adjustment. But, I have just been deluged. Suddenly, I see every interaction in the context of a relationship. I feel all the turmoil, but I can't really deal with it. To admit we love each other... created expectations," he said not meeting her eyes. "It pins up a future. Infinite futures, spinning off. Presumptions, promises, hopes... calculations? Missteps? Pain?" He sighed. "All of these ruminations must seem ridiculous to you."

"No," she tried to assure him as she paced in a tight circle around him. "And I know that things do not always work just because two people fall in love, Doctor." But her words did not seem to ease how he felt at all. She had to consider she had not found what plagued him.

It was not the potential longevity of the relationship (to think like him) that was bothering him, but the immediate mechanics.

"It was easier for you a few hours ago," she told him. "You were so brash. So charming," she said with a smile. She wrapped her arms around him from behind. But he felt so stiff and uneasy that she immediately released him. "It was easier when you were mucking about," she said with realization. "When you didn't have to worry that we... well, meant it all."

"The problem is, now that we are declared...." He paused. "No one talks like that do they?" he asked with narrowed eyes. His hand came up to push at his messy hair. "I've been repressing so much. Because it would have had to stay locked away if I had found that you couldn't love me back. And now, everything is loose. It is more than I can cope with. To think about you? To look at you? Is to _**know **_that you might let me touch you. _**Really**_ touch you. That just got very real. And to touch you now. To kiss you now, would be only so much prelude in my mind." And she saw him shudder. He drew in a long, shaky breath. "I love you. But Pandora handed me a hundred things more. Anxiety, anticipation, and desire. A very real sense of desire..." he trailed off as if following those thoughts to a particular conclusion. She felt herself flush as his eyes lingered on her. Finally, he shook his head to clear it then and continued. "Worry over your expectations. All of the things you probably process constantly. Things you have gotten used to feeling over many years." He looked back at her finally, his eyes were confused.

"I'm sorry," she said. "So, you are making the effort to be the way you were. To stay detached. For now?"

"For the moment... this is not really the place or the time to have it all come unraveling. To have _**me**_ unravel."

He shot her a worried glance then. He knew these machinations would be out of the ordinary for her. Would she reject him for them?

"It's all right," she assured him. "I just wish I could put you at ease," she told him. As difficult it was to navigate this minefield of emotions and intimacy with an ordinary human male, _**this**_ was going to be far, far stranger. But still, she truly didn't mind. "So what do we do to make this easier?" she whispered as she reached a sympathetic hand around to touch his back. "What's the right way to do this?"

"I want to take you some place amazing," came his hush voice. "I want to know we have all the time... all the time in the universe." _And I would push the hair from your neck and I would... _he thought.

And she released him from her touch in case that was provoking him in some way. She had only meant to ask what would get them through this uncomfortable situation, but his mind was at that point of unraveling – thinking about the physical side of the relationship. He really could not compartmentalize this at all, she realized.

"We could try to make things feel less complicated somehow until you've adjusted better.... " he seemed to groan a bit at the idea of that effort. And so she said, "Or we could stop worrying about it, and you could just take me to bed."

He let up an undeniable groan in answer to that suggestion and rocked backwards on his heels as if vaguely undone. He closed his eyes and told her, "You are offering me notable extremes."

"Because I love you. Because I have spent what feels like a life time keeping this as uncomplicated as I could for the sake of your friendship. And I have wanted you in my bed nearly all that time."

"Tell me what you saw in your old room? What you thought about," he said, as he began to pace.

"That I would understand and trust how you felt for me. That I would know you. Your mind and your touch." And she paused. Not embarrassed, but feeling the gravity of discussing the physical aspect of it. "We were in bed then together. Not making love. But understanding that the affection, the desire, all of it was shared. Comfortable."

"That is what was important for you?"

"Yes. I needed to trust in how you felt. Believe in it. And in you. Know that you were sincere. And I know you love me now. Things have gotten easier for me. But you haven't told me what would help you," she prompted gently.

"Do you think me a hypocrite?" he asked with a humorless laugh. "Because of what I said before? Because now I'm the one who is acting as if ..." he said clearing his throat. "I am obsessed suddenly."

"No. You've made two impossible transitions. Mentally, you've accepted this type of relationship as part of your life again. That is change enough. And physically, you have let desire back in. And this, I would guess, is not that garden variety interest I may have sensed in you years ago, but an appetite you can't help but worry will alter you," she said, as she now paced. "But is it worse still? Because I'm here. Everything feels very expected, doesn't it? Charged. Imminent. Awkward."

"Oh, you are amazing," he said with nervous relief. Finally, he turned to look at her. She had nailed it, she knew. Given him the understanding he had needed. Expressed what he himself could not.

"Had you thought about us at all? Had you worked things out in your mind the way I had?" She thought this might be a gateway. That he would reveal what he hoped for, a picture of things she could use as a guide. With luck, she could make things easier for him.

"Yes. That I could have found you and you would have already trusted me. And forgiven me. That this emotional hurdle was already gone. Our meeting would have been wordless. Easy. Relaxed."

"Wordless, yes. I can understand wanting that," she said, as she closed the distance between them. Gently, she reached to touch the hair at his temple. "So, what did I do? Hmmm? In this idea of yours. How did I make it easy?"

"You smiled. Pulled me to you. I didn't need to say a thing," he said, as he turned his head to avoid her eyes.

"You want to be understood, without having to explain everything?"

He nodded in reply. "You kissed me. And your hands..."

"Yes?" she prompted. But he couldn't say it. So, cautiously, she stepped in and softly kissed him. She told him she loved him, and then she ran her hands over his face and into his hair. "Like this?" she whispered.

"No. The jacket," came his strained voice. His eyes were squeezed closed and his head hung awkwardly. "And I knew..."

"You knew I understood," she finished for him. "That you love me. That this is difficult for you. That I need to be patient." She kissed him again. Small, light kisses. Filled with reassurance and love and consolation. And she pushed her hands just inside the jacket like he had said. "You knew how attractive I found you. That you would not be rejected," she whispered, as her hands moved further under that heavy garment. She rested her lips against his while she gripped at his jumper with one hand. The other hand slipped low and under the hem to stroke his back through just his shirt.

It was not to her an overly sensual move.

But everything changed. It was like a trigger for him. She felt, as much as heard the groan that rose out of his chest. He kissed her with a sudden intensity. His hands eagerly began to mirror her touches.

It was like a flood of insanity then. A voice that said, _"Go. Finally. Now."_ And never breaking the kiss, she pushed at the jacket until the oversized garment hit the floor behind him.

It hit the floor with a thud that seemed to rouse him.

His eyes flew open, and he stepped backwards, nearly tripping. "Not here. We have to stop," he managed. He bent stiffly to pick up his coat.

"You're right," she told him. She bit her thumb, needing a pacifier of sorts until she could talk. "I was trying to figure out what you were thinking. I thought it would help to _**talk**_ about it. That I could reassure you... But I got carried away." And she surprised him then. She smiled broadly and finally laughed, as if with a secret shared between two good friends. "Apparently, I really like kissing you."

Watching her laugh at herself and at the situation broke the tension for him. He moved forward. Then he touched her lips as if to experience things with yet another sense. And slowly the corners of his mouth crept up.

"I love you," he said with childlike wonder.

"Mmm, me too," she said as she captured his hand. "So, we go home. Alright? We'll watch the telly," she told him. It was a game. Lies. False bravado. Denial they could share.

"One of those wildlife specials," he said. "I like those. That Attenborough fellow." He was smiling now, more with ease than nervousness. He shrugged back into the jacket and they walked for the control room.

///

"Well," he said scratching his head. "We are 'here.' I'm just not sure it's the _here_ I meant."

He was leaning into the console, smiling at her. His attitude was as disarming as always. On the outside at least, he was managing this quite well.

"Oh, come on now. How hard could that have been for the TARDIS to just put us in my backyard.... with all those readings or measurements you took."

"Well, I wanted to test the TARDIS' intuitive circuitry. So, I only gave it a limited number of parameters."

"Like...."

"Rose Garden and well, that it would be basically capable of supporting life."

"Rose Garden? That's a little vague. So, for all you know, we've ended up at the White House. A pub in east London. There are two I know of in Edinburgh. Or a town in Baden Wurttemburg," she said in flawlessly accented German. But that Rose Garden would be spelled _auf deutsch,_ obviously..."

He turned back to her slowly, his eyes narrowed in obvious curiosity.

"What?" she said, defensively. "My life got a little boring, I took German."

His face now said, _Ha! And?!_

"And I traveled a bit..." she admitted.

She rolled her eyes then at the suspicious look he was giving her. "And a Bavarian prince took me away to his castle," she said with a sarcastic flourish. "Every story is not going to end with me kissing someone!"

"Shall we find out where we are?" he asked with a grin.

She came up along side him in front of the TARDIS door and ceremoniously reached down to take his hand. "Are you sure you didn't do this to try to avoid the discussion we just had?"

"We are where we are.... in more ways than one," he told her sheepishly. He gave her hand a strong squeeze and triggered the doors to open.

...

The smell of the roses was over powering as they walked over the threshold. The lighting, they both noticed, seemed wrong somehow. The air too still.

"We aren't outside," she said, as she looked up. Far above them and stretching in every direction was a grey translucent surface.

"A green house," he decided. "The biggest one I've ever seen."

"Well, we aren't on Earth. Not in my time. She said examining the plants all around them. "These _**smell**_ like roses. But they aren't any kind of rose I have ever seen."

"There are over 100 species of Earth roses... " he began.

"Oh, almost a 150," she told him with a withering glance. "But there are basic similarities on leaf structure. Only a few of these have the sharp-toothed oval to the leaves," she told him. He came over then and looked more closely at the plant she was indicating. "But there is a more obvious problem."

"What's that?" he asked, straightening. He then peered at her in that sweet, quizzical way that she was coming to know as _**this**_ Doctor's 'look.'

"Some of these are the most horrid colors I have ever seen..." she complained.

"Oh. There's no accounting for taste." He paused. Considered her. "And how can you be so fastidious about roses? Demanding they look as you expect, when you are so forgiving about me? Changing?"

He was studying her now. Without wanting to get caught studying her. His head was cast down and his eyes looked up at her from under those expressive brows.

"Feeling insecure?" she whispered.

"Perhaps."

"Mmmm," she mused, as she touched at his sleeve. "More human by the minute... For the record, you are adorable. Your eyes are soulful. Your lips are incredibly kissable... And this is not the type of conversation you should be encouraging if we are to stay on track," she teased. "So what's the plan, Doctor? Do you want to poke around? Find out where we are, satisfy your curiosity? Or go home?" She was trying not to sound like a predator when saying that last bit. Really his unease over the increased tension had put her off as well.

She got no answer, other than a thoughtful, self-satisfied smile. Slowly then, he turned and continued walking further between the rows of plants. Why was it, the Doctor in all his various incarnations would be sure to tell her, '_Don't wander off!'_ and then he would be the one to do it?

"Doctor?!"

"This irrigation system is something quite special. You know I wonder if we will run into anyone at all... This looks like an example of tele-gardening as practiced on the moons of Damsia.

"Tele-gardening? So, remote gardening? Automated?"

"Some people call it iGardening," he said, distractedly, as he inspected a tube that hung from a rack.

" ' I' as in first person or as in, vision?" she asked.

"No 'I' as in... Never mind, just know that in your near future you will be encouraged to put a lower case 'i' in front of almost any word."

She tried not to think of all the recent words that had been plaguing her since they'd been dancing. She wasn't sure all of them warranted an i in front of them. iKissing? iDesire? ireallywanttogonow? This was not a helpful line of thought. And there was the fact that to her it was likely 2 am...

She looked up at the ceiling and thought about the slope of it. "Let's say we wanted out, so you could look around and satisfy your curiosity. The roof seems to slope in that direction, so if we walk off that way, we should find a wall ... sooner or later... and then hopefully, a door."

"Mmmm," he said with a smile. "I like the way you are thinking."

"Just trying to keep things moving," she said smiling, weakly. "I wouldn't mind figuring things out and then sitting down again. I need to sleep off that dancing."

His expression changed. Flickered, and his arm came around her briefly. Maybe he was feeling guilty. Or maybe the idea of a sleepy Sarah Jane was a relief as one that was not at all conducive to sexual thoughts. He took up her hand and they walked in the direction she had indicated.

That the green house door, when they found it, was one that slid open rather than one on a traditional hinge, made Sarah wonder. It did not make her wonder fast enough, however. Once the Doctor pushed open the door, the wind's roar was overwhelming. The effort of moving the door pitched him into the opening, and then the wind nearly sucked him out. It pulled his hat from his head, and he dropped his umbrella as he hurriedly latched onto the opening with both hands.

Sarah's first instinct had been to cover her ears, but she quickly reached for the Doctor. She got a hold of his silk scarf, only to have it come away in her hand. In her panic to better reach him, she tripped over the dropped umbrella and knocked him further outside.

Sarah had nothing but him to hang onto and the winds were beginning to pivot and pluck at her. She was moved further and further out the door, her feet scrabbling along under her. He knew he would lose her in another moment and so dropped one hand from the door to loop around her then.

With the other hand, he continued to grip the open door edge.

"Don't let go," she hollered.

He almost laughed. Did she mean of her? Of the door? Both?

But it didn't matter. He was quick to see it was pointless. She couldn't hang on to him much longer. While he could hang on to her and the door for at least a little longer, he couldn't pull them back in.

It made sense to make a choice while he had the strength to do so. "I have an idea!" he shouted. And he let go of the door.

They twisted and stutter stepped together, as they were drawn forcefully across meters of open space. Wrapping both arms around her, the Doctor finally stopped trying to stand and instead used his efforts to throw them to the ground.

He did what he could to take the force of their landing on himself, but it was jarring for the both of them nevertheless.

"That was the idea, Doctor?" she grumbled wearily, after a long, stunned silence.

"All right?" he shouted to her neck.

"Very, very awake.... suddenly," she had a strong grip on his jacket and was actively wrapping a leg around his. The last thing she was risking was the two of them being separated. "Do we try to crawl back to the green house?" she asked him.

"Oh. no. I thought we could just lie here."

"Stop fooling around, Doctor."

"I'm not," he protested. He even wiggled enough then that he could attempt to look her in the face, but she had her eyes clamped shut. He wanted to make sure he had her attention before he tried what he need to do. He said her name a few times, but she wouldn't open her eyes.

He didn't risk letting loose of her with a hand to get her to open her eyes. And he was sick of shouting. He decided to kiss her. He exerted a great deal of effort at it, but because of the wind, it was still more head butt and nose mash than anything else.

"What was that?" she demanded. Done wincing after the face-smacking kiss he'd levied against her, she stared at him, suddenly wide eyed. He was smiling. She didn't know if she should laugh then or be more worried.

Pleased that he had her full attention, he told her, "I need you to hold on. I'm going to move...." and he began to tip a bit. "The winds will die down in about...." he then said, and with a great deal of effort he rocked so that they flopped over. He was straining his neck to get a look at the sky. She was screaming as the momentum of rolling once quickly allowed the wind to continue flipping them like a tumbleweed in an old western.

"Four hours," he yelled.

"Don't do that again," she scolded. She had spread out her legs to stop them from rolling more and was now trying to creep their bodies into a line that would keep them from getting caught by the winds.

He understood what she was doing and began to help with their progress. After 10 minutes of struggling, they had their feet to the worst of the winds. She panted a bit and then sighed when the situation seemed to have improved.

"Four hours?" she grumbled against the skin below his ear.

He moved his head then so that his lips were directly at her ear, making her giggle and flinch with ticklishness briefly.

"Sorry," he said, sounding more amused than repentant. "Less than 4 hours now. Based on the position of the sun, we have about that much time until the winds begin to abate come evening. See, I know where we are now," he said, sounding inordinately pleased with himself. "CorpuGrow.... it's a moon..."

"CorpuGrow? Who the hell names a moon CorpuGrow?"

"Bortudians .... Corporate Growers...."

"4 hours?"

"Three and a half now."

"Pedant," she teased. "Oh, God. Just don't let go of me. Promise? I'm exhausted. I'm going to close my eyes. I might even fall asleep. Too bad we don't have that old scarf," she said buzzing his ear with her laugh. "We could have tied ourselves together."

"I won't let go," he assured her. And he hooked a leg around hers and worked to eliminate any space between them where the wind might get a foothold at pulling them apart. It was a lovely, intimate embrace, and they were both affected by it. Both slowly cataloging the feelings at the long juncture between their bodies. Where hands pressed against back. Where her face was now turned into his chest. Where hips and thighs even managed to work together.

Something told him his life couldn't help but be like this. That he would have finally told her how he felt. He would have finally gotten to hold her. Only to have 110 mile an hour winds buffet them on a rocky moon. She must have been thinking the same thing, he realized, because he heard her chuckle before she sighed and relaxed.

She awoke with a start having dreamed she was dangling from a coat hook. She was not far off, she realized. Something had a hold of her. Something other than the Doctor. They were being dragged by their clothing.

"Doctor?" she managed.

"We are being rescued, it seems." She doubted that. She didn't know how many times in their travels the early prognosis was 180 degrees off. "Robots, I should think. Like the ones that tend the green house and such."

Given the way they were being dragged along their sides and backs, they could not get a look at what had a hold of them, other than to know that some sort of long pincher arms had latched onto their coats and was pulling them smoothly along.

There was a mechanical whir from overhead. And a bit of extra light in the late afternoon gloom. And suddenly, they were pulled through a shed door.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading. I will beg that you let me know I am not alone here. I have sweated over this chapter far too long. And as I am straying from canon, going horribly AU, I know this is not how others would see this at all. But. Sigh. I tried. Forgive me, the hopeless romantic.  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Suggestive relationship talk and adult thinking. Thoughts are welcomed and encouraged on the T rating. Has what you have been reading seemed T-ish? Strongly T? Barely T? Beyond T? **

* * *

The overhead door rolled down, sealing out the winds. And then the light that had welcomed them in went out with a pop.

Sarah sat up on the cement floor where she had been left and watched as the pair of small robots unceremoniously shuffled over into little bays. They made noises she would have sworn were the mechanical equivalent of weary satisfaction as they clicked in to place, lowered their already low chassis, and then shut down their systems and lights.

"Cute, really," she admitted to the Doctor who was already up and walking about.

He looked at her more closely. "I don't know that I have ever seen someone watch robots roll on to recharging platforms and look so jealous."

"I'm just that tired, I guess." She lay back down on the bare floor and threw an arm over her eyes.

"Let's see what we can put together for you then," he told her.

She merely listened for a minute or two. Picturing him in her mind instead of making the effort to strain to see him in the near dark shed. Deprived of sight, she realized there were things she recognized in him across the regenerations. The sound of his footfalls allowed her to visualize the confidence in his gait despite his walking in the unknown. And she knew that next sound: the stutter step in his walk when he found something he needed to examine more closely. Strange. So strange to have him be a mixture of things new and familiar.

She had loved the Time Lord who had come before. But she had been so young then and a bit volatile. And he had been little more than a child in too many ways. And here they were, finally able to love each other, if only because they had both done some very hard growing up.

Curious that two empty things didn't feel empty together. Curious. Fortuitous. And she decided, inarguably fine.

Looking around now, she guessed the room was about 15 feet on a side. It was well enough lit by the strange array of glowing power strips that she could see there seemed to be a low doorway in the far wall. And there were pallets along two of the others.

At first, she could make out the Doctor. Then she could discern only the vague movements he made as he got farther away. And then he was gone.

"Where are you?" she asked with irritation rather than fear.

She heard and saw a match flare. He had gone through the low arch and into another room.

"This is good!" he called back. "It has plumbing. Always nice. And sack cloth. And... ooh," he said, sounding ridiculously delighted. "There's some nice, dried moss."

She giggled at the childlike glee only the Doctor could have at finding dried moss on a strange moon. She was rather happy about the idea of plumbing though, she admitted.

They took turns availing themselves of what passed for "facilities," and the doctor returned from his trip dragging something.

"Two more of these bags of moss and a few of those cloth sacks and you should be set." He dumped everything down in the middle of the floor and the two of them went back for more. Soon they were pushing together more of a nest than a bed.

"It's amazing where you will sleep when you are tired enough," she said as she sunk to her knees. She pushed at what would have to pass for a pillow and then lowered herself down with a beleaguered sigh.

"So," she said in a whisper, finally asking what she had not dared before. "Are we being held prisoner?"

"Not really...." he said in his 'I'm equivocating' voice. "But we are not exactly free to leave."

"The robots didn't like the idea of us being out there. They think they need to protect us because we are too stupid to stay in the greenhouse where it is safe."

"Those handy laws of robotics, yes."

"So," she drawled, looking at her mechanical guardians. "We need to be careful not to do anything that might make these fellows think we are _**hurting**_ each other."

He squinted at her and his head turned slowly. It was that new 'bird look' that she had only earned once before. She smiled harder at it, but rolled over to hide her enjoyment. "You know. No close contact that they might misinterpret for aggression between us."

"I had forgotten how insensible you could get when you are exhausted," he teased back with a bit of bite. "Go to sleep, silly girl."

She rolled around a bit, trying to get comfortable, and he caught himself staring. Watching her burrow into her nest was affecting him, he realized sheepishly. It was a trickle of warmth that ran down his midsection in a line. And at the sound of her sigh and the sight of her sleepy smile, it all tightened inside him. He couldn't stand still suddenly. He didn't dare.

"Why must you pace like that? Like some madman in a cell?" she called up at him.

"There are things which take one's _**reason**_ prisoner."

"So, you are not a prisoner, but you _**have**_ gone mad? Lovely. Could we have less of the random frightening quotes. Hmmm, more of the helpful fellow captive thing?" she suggested. "Is it that you are worried? Is there something you aren't telling me?"

"About getting out of here? No. We'll have this sorted out by morning. Once these fellows let us poke around a bit. Once they get busy. There will be a way back to the green house."

"What else is bothering you then?"

"Nothing."

"Right," she said with disbelief. "Please," she said as he turned to start pacing again. "I'm still cold. Would you come here?"

"I don't really have that much body heat to contribute," he protested, keeping his distance.

"It will help. Just seeing you off your feet will help."

He blew out a quiet breath of resignation, and then he brought over some more layers of sacking from the nearby pallets. Kneeling, he began to wordlessly tuck her in.

"Thank you," she said smiling up at him. "It feels so good to be warm again," came her tired voice.

"Nothing better than a warm bed," he whispered, as he sat beside her.

"Oh, there is," she told him. "Lie down."

"Sarah Jane," he said. He was half pleading with her not to tempt him and half admonishing her.

She pushed up on one elbow and reached for his tie. "I'm exhausted. Aren't you? I'm not suggesting what you think I am..." She gave him a coy look then. "I mean, not in a _**garden shed**_," she said with a silly smile.

"R-r-right," he said as if missing some obvious joke.

"It would be completely out of the question ... in a garden shed... that's not even on **Earth**," she said, laughing. "I mean on Earth... maybe..."

He smiled then. And used his palm to her forehead to push her back into the bedding.

He felt it, his mood was lightening because he loved her. Because he was connected to her and could draw from her emotions.

"Sorry," she said sounding at least a little contrite. "Completely inappropriate. It's like that notion, 'don't think about pink elephants.' Don't talk about what you can't do anything about..."

He smiled, getting more of a handle on the game now. "Because I might think you were.... obsessed."

"Me? Obsessed? There is this fellow I think about all the time. But I'm not OBSESSED. No."

They were quiet then sitting in the near dark. He surprised her by continuing to sit beside her.

"I'm sorry about today in the arboretum," she said, looking up at him. "Kissing you. Over-kissing you? It was bad timing. It was more than that... it was not something you wanted to handle with the TARDIS looking over your shoulder. I realized that later."

"Yes. There are things I don't want to do in the _**TARDIS,**_" he said, mimicking her earlier joking lilt. And then he did something unexpected. He added playfully. "Well, when it's the _**first**_ time."

Their hands were twined now. He looked down, caught by the sight. He studied their hands as if they were someone else's. "I like this," he whispered.

"You are feeling better." It was more observation than question.

"I noticed it before in the TARDIS," he said, as he lay down beside her finally. "I told you we needed to stop. And you, well, you apologized and then _**laughed**_ about the situation." She was smiling now, he noticed. "You even made a joke about it. About the desire or frustration. You were able to laugh at yourself."

"And you felt better about it, too? Like a sympathetic reaction?"

"Yes. It's the way you handle things. It's your resilience. Your smile and your humor."

"So, I did help."

"Of course. You always do. Now sleep. You are exhausted."

She curled up a little tighter on her side, and he reached over her to pull the assorted bedding in tighter around her.

"I miss that old coat of yours. It was the size of a blanket. And just as warm."

"Yes," he said, softly.

"Tell me, please. So it's the last thing I hear before I go to sleep."

And he didn't have to search too hard inside himself and those dimly used places in his mind to know what she wanted.

"I love you," he said, only slightly stiffly.

...

He lay his arm across her hip and he remembered what he had confessed to her. How he wanted it to be.. '_That we would have all the time in the universe.' _ And there had been the thought that had followed. _And I would pull your hair away from your neck. And kiss you there. _He kept a bit of distance and closed his eyes. And thought about anything but the way her hair brushed at her neck... or the way her fingers had felt on his spine.

///

She woke and found his arm was under her head now. His body curled loosely behind hers.

He was sleeping, breathing audibly, in a way she realized her romance-addled brain would call 'wistfully.' Impulsively, she reached back and lay her hand on his hip. Yes, time with the Doctor assured you adventure and a good measure of the extraordinary. But right now she wanted to believe in ordinary things. Love and desire. Those feelings we register with a lover's senses. And those things only our hearts told us. She gripped the fabric of his trousers at the hip and gently pulled him in snug to her.

Two people lying together. It was simple. But that shiver of sensation at having the man she wanted at her back? It was electric. And when she heard his sleeping breath catch and felt his hips reflexively press against her, it was undeniably intimate and suggestive.

She wanted to roll over. Wake him fully, touch him, ask for more. But that wouldn't be what he wanted. He wanted control for now. He needed to wait. _Beside_s, _you are in a garden shed, Sarah Jane, on some strange moon, and you need to find the TARDIS, _she reminded herself.

He groaned then, as if faintly annoyed. She felt guilty now. They were not lovers, not yet. There was no set familiarity that allowed for the possessive way she had drawn him to her while he slept.

It would serve her right if she provoked him further and he called out another woman's name, she realized.

The arm around her tightened then about her waist, and she held her breath wondering if he was asleep or awake. Was he dreaming of her or no one in particular? Was he aching the way she was? Registering that need he seemed to fear?

"There's a little hole in wall," he said. "Did you notice it last night?"

She laughed and rolled over to look at him. "Good morning."

"I thought we'd already said that," he told a little smugly.

"Did we?" she managed. She was sure her cheeks were reddening with shame when he began to smirk. "How long have you..." she stammered.

"Oh, I don't need much sleep," he said, as he sat up.

She continued then as best she could, "I didn't see any holes in the wall last night. It's certainly brighter in here now," she said, sitting up and seeing the panels in the ceiling were letting in sun light. She looked back and he was staring at her. Just staring. So, she surprised him with a quick kiss.

"Point out the hole," she prompted with a smile.

"There. I think it is for these little agricultural 'bots to move from area to area. They are adapted to moving about outside, but it makes sense that this shed might be attached to the green house."

"Alright then, so are Fred and Ginger gone for the day?" she asked, as she looked around.

"Fred?"

"I named them. Sorry."

"I heard them leave about an hour ago." His voice trailed off oddly and then he stared at her again for a bit. With a sort of impulsive movement he leaned in quickly and kissed her now. It struck her as strange and she shook her head a bit then. They were discussing robots, but it was his motions that seemed robotic this morning. It was as if he was mentally charting his course with her. Considering it. Then doing it. Or that splintered thoughts about relationship mechanics were coming to him from some darkened, forgotten room in his mind. _Morning? Yes. Morning kiss then? _

"Well, as long as they aren't in that room that passes for a wash room. Because that is where I am going..."

///

He stood up from his examination of the robot doorway in the wall and turned abruptly to meet Sarah as she returned. He was all business suddenly. There was a tape measure in his mouth that he did not think to remove before attempting to speak.

"Come here," he seemed to be saying. He ran his hands down from her shoulders to her hips then. And there his hands lingered. It was a 'tsk, tsk' she heard as he spat the tape into his hands and pulled it taunt across her front. "You've gained an inch across here."

"Hello!" she objected. "You know you aren't exactly the same size, shape, or personality from 15 years ago, either," she accused.

"Yes, but that is working to our advantage here. I wouldn't have fit through that hole before."

"Certainly, your ego wouldn't have," she told him.

"What?!"

"Sorry. I'm still mad about the hips thing. We're even now. But," she said, suddenly. And she then grabbed him by the trouser pockets. "As long as we are measuring, what makes you think you are going to fit.... any how?" Firm hands ran down his hips, giving him the clinical treatment.

"A little gentle there if you please, Miss. I'm usually the only one in my pockets."

"You've got a lumber yard in your pockets. And your trousers alone add two inches, they are so baggy. I may be carrying an extra inch. You are carrying three."

"I can take these off," he said, saucily.

She bent down and peered into the small square hole. She looked over her shoulder at him and told him, "I hope you have to."

"Have you read your Milne?" He fired back as he squatted down next to her and pointed at the hole.

"Milne?" she said drawing a temporary blank.

"As Pooh Bear said once he was stuck, 'Et tu, Rabbit?!' "

* * *

**A/N: Thank you, folks for reading and reviewing. I love writing this story. I really appreciate you reading it.**

"There are things which take one's _**reason**_ prisoner." That is very loosely from Shakespeare.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: A short bit that I just wanted to keep separate from the next chapter. No warnings, just yummy goodness.**

**Just previous to posting this, I made some edits to prior chapters. There were some sticking points I felt needed work. You may not notice a difference, but I feel much better. :)**

**And I have reworded some bits and such to make the story more universally T and dropped the rating to T. Not that it was exactly M to begin with. I had rated it as such, however, because I am just a middle-aged worrier on that score.**

* * *

_"You've got a lumber yard in your pockets. And your trousers alone add two inches, they are so baggy. I may be carrying an extra inch. You are carrying three," she told him._

_"I can take these off," he said, saucily._

_She bent down and peered into the small square hole. She looked over her shoulder at him and told him, "I hope you have to."_

"_Have you read your Milne?" He fired back as he squatted down next to her and pointed at the hole._

"_Milne?" she said drawing a temporary blank._

"_As Pooh Bear said once he was stuck, 'Et tu, Rabbit?!' "_

_

* * *

  
_

"For the record," she told him with mock sterness, "Milne never wrote a line remotely like, 'Et tu, Rabbit?' "

"Oh, I asked him to, though! I got so tired of that Rabbit. Just once I wanted Pooh to tell him what for."

With a smile and a sad little sigh, she considered the Doctor. What concerned her at present was not his penchant for name dropping, but his droopy pullover, his volumnous trousers, and the trace of 'middle age spread' that seemed to lurk beneath.

"You are going to have to admit you are not going to fit. You are smaller than you were, but you still have a couple of inches on me," Sarah told him gently. She jiggled his trousers at the pocket, and he scowled.

"Let's see how you fit and go from there," he said with a finger to his lips.

He took off his coat and tied it into a ball before shoving it through. "Seems safe enough in there," he said, banishing visions of the room-defending lasers from the ark they had visited years earlier. "You first, Sarah. Let me push you through."

She lay on her back with her arms extending through the hole, and he slid her into the next room. "That was a relief," she called through. "Lie down and I'll try pulling you through." But they both knew what they had seen. Sarah Jane had only just barely made it.

She waited, but his hands did not appear. A full minute later, a bundle was pushed through that she quickly realized was his trousers and pullover wadded up together. She stood in stunned silence holding them.

She was determined to handle this the best way. _And what is that? The Doctor is about to appear sans trousers. _

She didn't have long to consider what to do. He was on his back now with his arms extended through the entrance. Dropping the clothes, Sarah stepped over to deal with the seemingly ownerless hands. Grasping his wrists, she backed up and pulled. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and bit her lip to stiffle the urge to giggle when he was momentarily stuck at the waist and hips.

They both seemed a bit stunned once he was through. Neither moved or said anything for a moment. He would need reassurance, she knew. Buckets of kindness. God knows, she would, if she was in his shoes. And trouserless...

He lay there with his eyes closed as if in disbelief.

"Hello, Pooh Bear," she whispered, as she crawled over. She leaned down slowly to kiss him thoroughly, as no other adaquate form of reassurance had come to mind. "Have some honey?" she then asked, alluringly.

"Do you ever have a 'This is not happening' moment?" he asked, opening a single eye.

"With you? _**All**_ the time," she said with a grin.

"Any idea how many more of these little doorways we need to get through?"

"I stuck my head through the next one. There are at least two more," she said, making sure to only look him in the eye.

"Not that I had made a detailed plan of the first time I would appear in front of you without my trousers, but this is not it at all."

"I'm not looking. Unless you tell me to look. Deal?"

He made a complacent little humming noise. "Onward then, Sarah Jane."

"Right," she said, enthusiastically. "Good thing we didn't have breakfast." And she leaned over him and quickly buzzed him again on the lips.

His trouserless-state kept Sarah moving. She didn't want to embarrass him. And she did not want to look. She had never seen him in less than two layers too many, so she had to figure he liked it that way. She was sure she had never seen anything more exciting than his elbow or Adam's apple in all the years they'd been together.

She patted him on the chest and then walked for the next hole, grabbing the clothes bundles as she went. Once she had pushed the clothes through the next hole, she started to squirm through on her back. The Doctor came over and pushed her through with his hands to her feet.

They repeated that proceedure twice more, and finally, Sarah found herself in the green house. She pulled him through and greeted him with a huge smile.

"Happy, Sarah Jane?" he asked from his spot on the floor.

"We did it." Without mentioning them, she dropped his clothes onto his chest and stood to walk away.

Once he was dressed, he stood behind her and whispered in her ear, "Do you have your bearings?"

"I think we are on the far side of the green house from where we were sucked out," she said peeking behind her. Even now, knowing he was dressed, she was afraid to do anything but look him in the eye.

"Home?" he asked, resting his chin on her shoulder.

She could not believe she heard herself say it, but the words that came out were, "Anywhere you want."

///

**_Thank you for reading! _**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: No warnings. Thank you, folks, for reading and reviewing.** ** It is much appreciated.**

**It took me a while to decide how something like this would play out with someone like the Doctor (which is why I write him, he is so 'out there'). Do let me know what you think. **

* * *

Sarah stood half in the TARDIS and half out, her eyes clearly scanning the green house. "What are you looking for?" the Doctor asked, his hand on the controls.

"Fred and Ginger," she admitted.

"You know we can't take them with us. I'll get the other K-9 unit out of storage. Will that cheer you up?"

"It would feel disloyal. You haven't fixed mine yet." She sighed and gave up. Pulled herself through the door as if weary. Then watching him bent over the console, she found she could not help but smile. She adored him, she realized. Even at his most distracted.

She was hopeless, she decided.

///

He hovered over the controls for less than a minute. Gave them one last pat and then he backed away, watching those things he had set in motion.

"Where are we going?" she asked him.

"No where." He smiled to see she looked plainly confused. "Are we too old to go 'parking,'" he then asked. He marched over smartly, a smug smile twitching on his lips. Once he had latched onto her hand, he pulled her through the interior door.

"Okay, the TARDIS is going nowhere," she said, after patiently touring three corridors in silence. "Where are _**we**_ going?"

"Clothing storage. I need a hat," he said, as if it should be obvious.

///

She walked the space, running her hands over the racks of odd clothing. Then she wandered over to examine the enormous wooden wardrobe that stood in the middle of the room.

He continued to test the hats he pulled from a trunk on the floor. Flipping them. Creasing the brims. Inspecting their bands. They all looked the same to her. How hard could this be, she wondered. Placing one on his head, he looked into the mirror. He saw Sarah in the glass then, watching him from inside the wardrobe.

"What are you doing in there?" he asked, as he walked over to her. She had earned that puzzled 'bird look' from him again and for some perverse reason that pleased her.

"Come on in," she said, mysteriously as she disappeared further in.

"It's not like the one in 'The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe,' if that is what you are thinking."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure," he heard her say. A hand reached out to grab hold of his lapel and she then backed up, drawing him in.

He stepped over the edge and pushed the hanging clothing aside to find her.

"Sarah?" he asked, as he reached for her.

"It's all in here," she said, as she wrapped her arms around him. "All of you. It's like having all of you." She kissed him hard and then lingered against his mouth. She loved that she could sense him tremble, that both of them could get lost in the sensations from a simple kiss.

She nuzzled at his neck and then watched as his eyes fell closed and his face went soft and sweet. Impulsively, she reached over his shoulder and pulled a cloak with a velvet collar from the hanger. As she leaned in, she disguised her actions with small kisses. He opened his eyes in time to see her smile grow wider, just as she settled the cloak around his shoulders. She laughed as she saw its satin lining made it want to slide from him.

"The fellow who wore this..." she said, as she tied it in place.

"Yes," he said, with mock impatience. "Was a good deal taller and would not have put up with this tomfoolery, young lady."

"Did you know then? How ... fond I was of you?"

"Oh, my girl," he said, seeming to lose his place in time. And he smiled at her patiently and wrapped his arms about her tighter. "I knew you cared more than you should. Which is exactly how I felt. But you were so young. I told myself it was only a crush. That I was a father figure to you, as alone as you were in the world." He caressed her cheek. "Now," he said, clearing his throat. "Get this foppish thing off me."

She sighed as if disappointed and did as he asked. "What else is in here," she wondered, as she pushed further in.

"I will only tell you, the further in you go, the _**worse**_ it gets. Really, I am warning you..."

"A clown suit?" came her muffled shriek.

"I did warn you," he huffed, pulling her back. He stepped out of the wardrobe and continued trying to extricate her. Finally successful, he saw what had delayed her. She had not come out empty handed.

"Could I hang on to this?" she asked, sheepishly as she petted the long knit scarf she now wore.

"The scarf?"

"Would that bother you? I mean. If it does. It's just I ..."

"No, that's fine. It's good to see it again. And to see it on you, Sarah." He smiled and adjusted the scarf for her before tweeking her nose. "I don't suppose," he said, drawing the words out, "that you still have those camouflage pants?" And he gave her a quick eyebrow wag.

...

He walked her to the arboretum and she found herself following along without an explanation as usual. He stopped at the edge of an empty pool built into the floor. Without a comment, he then lay on the ground and began to poke at some controls that were hidden just over the edge. She walked the granite lip in a circle, watching him, feeling strangely patient, feeling that understanding him was getting gradually easier. He wanted to get the pool going so that they could sit beside it, she knew. As the water rushed in from the side and began to rise, he dipped his hand in, "Perfect," he told her.

"For parking?" she asked, impishly.

"Sit. Put your feet in," he insisted.

"What are you going to do?"

"Get us something to eat. We can sit here. Sort of like a picnic."

"Now that's perfect."

///

Mostly, it was a meal taken in happy silence. He had taken off his coat, shoes and socks, and even cuffed his trousers to dangle his feet in the water. That said more, Sarah was sure, than any words she could try to drag from him.

They ate from the same plate. And made bids for the last strawberry. And once he had pushed the empty plate away, she mopped at his perfectly clean face just for the chance to do it.

And finally she lay down with her head in his lap and let her eyes drift closed.

"Tired?" he asked.

"If I say 'no' will I have to get up?"

He smiled a bit and shook his head, but from the glance she stole of him she could see he was still perplexed by all of this. By the subtle give and take. The responses she had to him. The desire she had for all these small touches.

"We should go back to the control room. If we are going to stay 'parked,' I'll just need to make sure everything is holding solid. But if you want to sleep in your own bed tonight, then we could go straight back. Or anywhere, as you said."

"We could talk it over while we check on things. Okay?" she asked as she got to her feet. She held out a hand then and helped him up.

///

She saw that serious side to him as he checked all of the TARDIS readings. There seemed a touch of paranoia there. More likely a well-born fear after years of things going awry. Of being caught off guard.

"How are you? Are things still bothering you?" she asked, as gently as she could. And when he slowly raised his head to meet her eyes, she did not give him a chance to answer. To lie. "You don't have to pretend you are fine and whole just because you are with me. Just because we are starting something. Because I remember what you said. You were _**that**_ empty. You had been through that much."

"I let go of it." They were simple words said with an aching gravity. "Over the years. Many, many years, obviously, I have gotten good at that. Or ...better at least. I have had to let go of so much. Often I was only letting go of the things and people I had already lost. Now is different."

"Because you are trying to begin something? Add something to your life?"

"This is a beginning. A new stage for me. A well-earned retirement," he said smiling. "Something new without the regenerating."

"You needed someone to understand. To take you in," she said, remembering his earlier words. "You needed to love and be loved."

"Don't make this seem clinical, as if I was filling a prescription," he objected. "It wasn't just 'someone.' It was _**you**_ I came to see."

"But it's because I am from your past... before things turned so dark?" she said, puzzling it out.

"I think so," he said, as he nodded. "You knew me when I had hope. When I was happy, when I was young and ridiculous. This Timelord that showed up in your garden 2 weeks ago needed love and kindness. But none of my incarnations has deserved it less. Or felt less deserving. But you could see me as a whole, because you loved those other parts of me. With us there is that current that runs from the past to now. A long standing attachment."

"All of it that you went through. So many endings. Yes? Loss? Destruction?"

"Sarah," he warned with a head shake.

"But this. Us. This has helped?"

"Helped? Sarah Jane? It's everything."

"It's not. I know it's not. Don't be so... impatient."

"Impatient for what?"

"You seem impatient to heal. It will happen, but I don't know that you can _**make**_ it happen. And I'll stand by you, whether you tell me all of what happened to you or none of it. But you don't need to pretend everything is fine, if it isn't. I won't leave you."

"You wouldn't leave me, would you?" he said, squinting, as if with sudden realization.

"I couldn't. I love you. Not just because of the past. And not just because now is new and exciting. I will just always love you. All of you."

But there was something sad about the way she said that. As if she was accentuating the word "I." These things were true for her, she was saying. But her doubt of him was coming through. She still didn't believe he could love _**her**_ like that. That he was capable of something long term. She didn't think he was reliable.

"This is something I want to make as permanent as possible..." he told her. _But what did that mean coming from someone like him_, he asked himself. _Someone who could not stay still. Someone who had left and taken 15 years of her life to come back?_ He couldn't think how to make her understand this was different.

And then the words burst out of him, "We could get married."

"You do that?"

"Time Lords? Yes. Me?" He nodded sheepishly. "Though I have never gotten high marks. I've been asked to leave. I've been widowed and I've left a widow..."

"How is that last one possible?"

"Our marriages dissolve with regeneration. It only makes sense. Different places have all manner of rules. There is no shortage of options. Couples on Ferenzy, for instance. They have 6 month, one year and two year options. We really should get K-9 out. Not only would he know all the various possibilities, he is recognized as a legal marriage celebrant on three worlds."

"You are making a mockery of this."

"Am I?" he asked, honestly.

"Well, that was my first impression," she said, as she considered it. "But the longer it is just the two of us, the more I lose my bearings," she admitted. "Frankly, I don't know what I think. Could we back up?"

"Back up?" he asked.

"Did you ask me to marry you or is this just a rather painful, theoretical discussion we are having?"

She watched as the fastest brain she knew seemed to throw its transmission. He was searching. Lost as to how to move forward. The confusion was clear in the faraway look on his face.

She gasped with surprise when he suddenly fell to his knees. The move lacked for grace or explanation, and Sarah's bewilderment only increased when he knee-crawled the few steps to be closer to her.

"Will you marry me?" he asked in a determined voice.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: This is a scene that deserves some warnings. It is T. Pretty light T based on what I have read out there. But I wanted to go on record that there are adults in this chapter implying they will do adult things. **

**Once I decided how to attack this chapter, it came along quickly. Hence the speedy update. Yes, we've gone horribly AU here. But I would like to think we have done it with style and humor. And that the characters are IN character while being out of their depth. **

**I'm rather happy with how this chapter turned out. Feel free to let me know if you like it, too.**

* * *

"_Will you marry me?" he asked in a determined voice._

"For six months or six years or sixty," he told her. "I will _**try**_ not to disappoint you. But it will still happen."

She pushed a hand gently through his hair and smiled down at him. And then she frowned. Feeling horribly disloyal, she pulled her touch from him and moved her hands awkwardly to her sides. "I don't know what to say."

He dragged himself back on to his feet with a groan. "You could have told me you were going to say 'no'," he complained as he rubbed his knees."

"I didn't say 'no.' I said I didn't know what to say."

"Which is not 'yes.'" There was a long pause while he put some distance between them. "And that makes sense. I mean, the type of woman who will drop everything and follow some mad man into a police box. Traipse across worlds, hot, cold, wet or dark. Put herself into danger to chase down an answer. That woman ... well..."

"What?!" she demanded.

He walked over to the controls and turned a few dials.

"I am simply saying that kind of woman MIGHT have priorities other than marriage."

"Oh my God, THAT is the pot calling the kettle black. You don't think MAYBE it could be that I abhor failing at things and that there is a huge chance that marrying you would never work? Just how much do we have in common?"

"Other than a perverse desire for excitement and a lack of relationship sense?" She had been prepared to take that as an insult until she noticed the hint of a smile on his face. "You know, it can be bad to have too much in common," he continued "Too much in common and there are actually laws against getting married," he teased.

"You're insane."

"Mmmm. Possibly," he said, as he continued to hit buttons, making everything in the control room hum. "But YOU understand me better than anyone. What does that say about you?" He was trying not to steal a look at her. Trying not to let his faint smile get any larger. It wasn't working.

"Get away from the controls. I know you aren't actually doing anything."

"Why can't I be at the controls!?" he asked, as he backed up.

"Because I know I'm not allowed to touch you when you are fiddling with the TARDIS. And I'm going to touch you."

"A good touch.... or.." he joked.

"It's part of the apology that's coming and also, I just really like touching you." He extended his arms in invitation as she walked toward him. They stood forehead to forehead then. "I love you and I'm sorry," she told him. "I handled that badly. Your proposal was brilliant. And I just panicked. I should be used to impossible things happening when I'm with you. But I'm not." She sighed. "I'd like it if we went back to my house. I could get a hot shower. I would wrap my arms around you all night so you can't escape. And in the morning, I would check my answering machine, call in to work, clear my calendar, and then I'm yours. For better or worse. Married or not. We'll figure it out. Um, does that work?"

"Check your answering machine, call into work, clear your calendar?!" he taunted. "The intrepid adventurer has changed."

"Guilt. I grew up and developed guilt over just leaving people in the lurch. Plus, I would really like to pack a thing or two if we are going off again. A good sports bra, some running shoes. My favorite quilt. Maybe I'll find those camo pants you like? Also, I never liked your towels." She kissed him to ease any sting from the insult levied against his bath linens.

"Let me make sure I've got this then," he teased. "Your place, hot shower, wrapped up with no escape? Answering machine, call work, clear calendar, camo pants, all mine? And by the way, I WAS doing something." He stepped away from her to operate the door control. She saw it then, her garden bathed in a summer evening's long shadows.

"Home," he told her.

///

"I'm going to take a shower. You get ready for bed." That was the last thing she had told him before she had walked into her bathroom and left him standing in the middle of her bedroom.

_You would think it was the most difficult problem I've ever been set_, he chastised himself. He stood there for 5 minutes looking from the bathroom door to the overnight bag that sat at his feet. He listened to the water running, lost as to what to do.

_Oh, there's no shortage of possibilities,_ he acknowledge to himself. _Ranging from removing all my clothing and surprising her in the shower to continuing to stand here, fully dressed and staring at the door like an imbecile._

_I think my pride demands I eliminate the latter._

He shuddered then as his mind turned loose to explore the other thought. _I think I should eliminate the former, as well._

He roused himself. Literally shook his head to get the thoughts going. And then a new way to approach this occurred to him.

_I will just follow her lead._

///

"Sarah?" he said, as he let himself into the bathroom 20 minutes later.

She turned off the water and then stood there stunned, looking up at the shower head. "What are you doing in here?" she called out.

He, in turn, addressed the ceiling. "I was going to wait in your room. But then I could see that was going to lead to an incredibly awkward scene when you came out. And I figured you might not have a plan. You might be wondering, 'Should I put something on if I only hope to take it off in the next 10 minutes?' I thought I could save you all that. So... here's a towel."

A hand reached around the curtain, and she numbly took the proffered towel.

"So, this way I don't have to worry about that awkwardness? Just THIS awkwardness?" she said, her voice a wee bit higher than normal.

"And now I can stop wondering if it would be imprudent to remove some or all of my clothing before you came out." He sounded so proud of himself for figuring a way out of this that she was getting awfully curious.

"So what are you wearing?"

"Come out and see."

"Not before I get another towel," she sang back with a bit of impatience.

"Why?"

"_**This**_ is a hand towel. I'd really like something larger..."

She listened intently to the shuffling noises coming from the other side of her shower curtain, while clutching the small blue towel to her front.

"Here you go," he said. And a hand and bare forearm reached into the shower holding one of her bath towels.

She wrapped it around her, firmly tucking in a tail so it would stay up. She knew there was no other way out of this. Well, she could just tell him he was insane for the third time that day and order him to clear the bathroom. But he was right. She had stood in that shower for way too long wondering how to make her entrance into the bedroom once she was done. She had devoted another 10 minutes of hot water to wondering what to expect from him when she finally appeared. Suddenly, that was not the concern at all, she realized with a little laugh.

"What's so funny in there?" he demanded.

She held the hand towel as a sort of prop and slowly opened the curtain.

"You are wearing one of my towels?" It was a horrendously stupid question. It was quite obvious that that was what he was doing, as there was not another stitch of fabric on the man. But then his state of undress would explain why she was suddenly given to idiocy.

"I thought towel parity was the best option. This seemed equitable. Safe. It was a very recent plan. If I have miscalculated..."

"You're all wet," she said.

"I showered down the hall while you were ..."

And she noticed his eyes had failed to hold hers and were drifting south. He was momentarily speechless. And she liked it. Having passed 40, she was much more receptive to the idea of being blatantly oogled. And true parity did demand that their apparel should interfere with _**his**_ brain processes as well. She bounced the hand towel off his chest and that seemed to bring him around.

"I've seen you in less," he said, swallowing hard. "But the effect now is.... more."

"Flatterer. Now, give me your hand," she said, reaching for him. "An inelegant exit from the tub is not an option."

The few steps into her bedroom were managed together with coy smiles and silence. She turned then and almost gingerly put her arms around him, aware that it would be a shock to feel his skin under her palms and against her bare arms.

He kissed her and she felt her nervousness mirrored in him.

Still she wanted to explain somehow. She needed him to know tonight was not an ordinary turn of events for her. But also that her hesitancy had nothing to do with him.

"It's ...been a while." She floated the words out there. And made them both question and statement.

"Mmm," he agreed, "Yes. A long time."

"Years," she admitted, as she rubbed her forehead against his.

"Oh, at least a hundred."

She smiled at that. Kissed him. Experimented with moving her hands and learning the feel of the muscles across his back.

He twirled a wet strand of her hair around his finger.

"What are you thinking, Pooh Bear?" she asked him, gently.

"That there's nothing like the first time."

She thought about that a long while, watching him intently. Enjoying the look to his face, seeing that he plainly loved her.

"I don't know," she said. It was not just that she wanted to remove the sense of expectation, but also that her perspective was changing. She didn't need any more than just this one more first time. "That 100th time," she told him. "That must be good. To be together that long. To still love and want each other. And that thousandth time? How amazing would that be? Together so long that you aren't still the same people any more really."

"Changed, hmmm. Like we are already?" he kidded.

"Maybe not that much," she answered him.

There was a pause. Some kisses that proved the nervousness was working its way out.

"What will you call me?" he asked her.

"What do you mean?"

"You have not managed to call me 'Doctor' since shortly before the incident with ... well, _**without**_ the trousers. In fact, the only form of address you have used with me since then has been the two times you've called me 'Pooh Bear.'"

"I hadn't noticed." He gave her a disbelieving look. "I guess everything feels very different and you are something different to me now."

"Obviously."

"And 'Doctor' seemed less.... right."

"So, what do you want to call me? I mean, a real name. 'Pooh Bear' won't work under most situations.... like ones where any other living being is present."

She laughed. "You must already have a name," she suggested.

With an over-done pout, he leaned in and whispered it to her.

She began to snicker before he'd even finished. He tried to looked peeved.

"I see your problem," she said. "I don't think I can manage that." And she hugged him tighter in consolation. Rocked in his arms.

"You are free to make suggestions then," he told her.

It was wonderful, languid foreplay. Unlike anything she had ever known. She leaned back, letting him hold her. And she traced his arms with her fingertips while she watched him. Scoured his face with her eyes while one deft hand of his made slow circles across her back. . And with a strangely patient ease, she waited for her heart or head to name him.

"It should be something to go with the wonderful way you roll your Rs, I think," she said, finally.

"That being my most endearing feature currently."

She smiled then as the warmth in him enveloped her. Came to excite her in his slow, unassuming way.

"You have many endearing features, I find," she told him.

"Even now?" he asked, eagerly.

"Yes, now," she assured him. "Does your ego require that I detail them for you?"

"Mmm, possibly ...later." His statement came out with such an air of uncertainty that she wondered, did he worry about taking her to bed? He was so ill-at-ease at times. Was he as anxious as she was?

Maybe more?

"A name," he prompted, interrupting her thoughts. "Would it help if I had one?" He kissed her in answer to her uneasy look. "Frasier?" he said then, in a strong, sure voice. And his hands seemed more powerful against her skin suddenly. She pulled in tight to him, twined a leg around his in response. "Malcolm?" he suggested between kisses against her neck. "Tavish?"

"Duncan," she heard herself croak. "But..."

"Duncan it is then," he told her, in full, warm tones meant to delight her.

His words seemed to mark a point of embarking. They both sensed it. Gently, she removed her hands from him and moved to the light switch. Once the bedroom light was out, there was just the light from the bath. As if taunting them, it cut an angled path across the floor and to the bed. He looked back as if he would switch it off, too. But she said, "Duncan, Love. Leave it."

He seemed a half beat behind. Not moving for the bed until she was already kneeling on it and obviously waiting for him.

Finally, he stood by the bed. His knees biting into the side as he leaned in to touch and kiss her. He tried to climb in, but he felt her arms stiffen against him. He felt her kiss turn into a mischievous smile.

"What?" he asked with confused amusement.

"No wet towels in bed," she said, as if lecturing him.

And then she handed him hers.

///

**_Thanks so much for reading, guys!!_**


	12. Chapter 12

Sarah Jane turned from the stove, tea cups in hand. With a shaky breath and a smile, she willed it all to be not **_too_** strange. This wasn't the first morning they had taken tea in the kitchen together, after all.

Once she had placed his cup in front of him, she just admitted it to herself. It was all strange. Still, it was very, very good at the same time. She had loved him yesterday. But this feeling today? It was something a little deeper still, she thought, as she looked at him.

She stood next to him and pet his hair briefly while he raised his tea cup. As she sat down next to him, he smiled over at her. But then his eyes begin to drift faintly over her shoulder to the slider door.

"Oh, Inglorious Kasterbolous!" he said, as he put the cup down hastily. He then mopped at the resultant spill on himself.

"Too hot?"

"No. The Brigadier. Or ..._**Alastair**_," he huffed.

"No!" she implored him, unwilling to look behind her.

"In your garden. With two large, armed men," he confirmed.

Feeling the Devil's own cheek rise in him, the Doctor abruptly stood and stormed towards the door. He opened it a crack. Then, not giving the Brigadier a chance to say anything, he rattled off, "Party of three? I don't believe we have a reservation for you." And with that, he made to pull the door shut again.

"Oh, stop it," Alastair replied in an infuriated baritone. And with a firm hand, he reopened the door and let himself in.

Feeling a tad self-conscious suddenly about her thin pajamas, Sarah reached for the bathrobe that was slung over her chair.. She turned back around to find the two friends were silently glaring at each other. She decided she should at least be happy the soldiers were staying outside, and that the 'boys' had not hurt themselves messing about with the door.

The Brigadier seemed riled enough that he was unable to engage in any pleasantries. "I got a report of an old police box about a week ago," he said to Sarah without preamble. "And right after that, you disappear. I thought you had promised me you would at least TELL me when you were going to do that sort of thing!" He walked closer to her and his voice turned to more of an urgent whisper. "Then I had to wonder what happened when you returned yesterday, but did not call me. Didn't you get my message on your machine?"

"Good Morning, Alastair," she said, pointedly. "I am sorry. I just haven't gotten around to playing my messages." She shrugged as she said it. And her eyes had unconsciously moved to the Doctor. Even to her the excuse had come across a tad lame.

The Brigadier silently followed her with his eyes as she crossed her kitchen to pour him tea. He looked back to her visitor and tried to process everything. Perhaps, he should not ask why she hadn't gotten to the messages. He might not want to know the reason both he and the answering machine had gotten short shrift, he quickly decided.

The Doctor chimed in then. "The TARDIS got here at least two weeks ago. You people are slipping."

Sarah cringed. Subtly was not a trait the Time Lord possessed in any incarnation, apparently.

"I will agree with you there, Doctor," she heard the Brigadier reply gruffly.

"So, you recognize him then?" Sarah asked, as she turned back to them.

"Who else could that be?" Alastair took the chair that Sarah offered and then leaned back to complain to her. "Someone says they've seen a police box. And then it is gone before I can confirm it. I check on you and _**you**_ are gone. No one at your work knew anything. And you left me no message. No note here."

"You've been through my house?!" she said, indignantly as she put down a cup for him.

"Out of concern," Alastair replied.

"Out of curiosity over _**him**_. I would wager," she said, indicating the Doctor.

The Brigadier held his words as he scanned the Time Lord's new form. And new self-satisfied smile. The old strategist regretted that he had no sense for what constituted "normal" in this Doctor. He would dearly love to know if this morning, the Time Lord was behaving a bit... well, differently.

He left off his inspection to address Sarah. "And then someone is noticed here last night, but no one was seen returning by the front door. It was all highly irregular."

"Not if you are me," the Doctor said, smugly.

"You always at least call," the Brigadier said, sounding a little more hurt than miffed now. "I had to consider that something had gone amiss." The 'you always call' bit did earn Sarah a pair of raised eyebrows from the Doctor.

"I frequently ...pop out on a story," Sarah explained. "And it has paid off more than once to have Alastair looking out for me to return."

Sarah stood then. "I'll be right back down to have breakfast with you two after I get dressed." She patted the Brigadier on the shoulder. Then she rather impulsively leaned down to squeeze him. "Sorry for being such a bother, Alastair. Really."

They both watched her leave the room. But the Brigadier noted that she seemed to stare over at the Doctor a great deal as she walked out.

Exuding nothing but calmness, Alastair sipped at his tea while he watched Sarah Jane disappear up the stairs. The cup came down with a meaningful clang then and the man's eyes narrowed as he addressed the Doctor. "Just what are you doing?" Alastair demanded harshly.

"I'm having breakfast with an old friend. Or two?" the wily Time Lord said, forcing a smile. "Although, _**you**_ are sounding a little less than friendly right now."

"It's obvious that _**this one**_ of you has made a play for her. But I can't say I expect it to end better than before, likely only worse."

The Doctor suddenly seemed like an animated, insulted child. He flopped his arms over his chest and then fired his words at the Brigadier. "Things are a bit different. Although, I really should not explain it to _**you**_."

"No, you really should."

They glowered at each other until the Doctor could no longer contain himself. "I asked her to marry me," he told Alastair.. And without the meanest attempt, the Time Lord was suddenly sporting a vulnerable look. The Brigadier could see he was obviously waiting for a response, as well.

"I don't believe it." The words came out flat, as if the old soldier was truly stunned.

"It's true! I have the bruises to prove it. On my knees." He bent to roll up a trouser leg when the Brigadier waved him off. "She said 'no.' Or 'I don't know what to say' or something distinctly other than 'yes.'"

"Because _**maybe,**_ she doesn't want to be dragged around the universe and nearly killed on a twice monthly basis any more?" Alastair asked sarcastically. "There might be things she'd rather do... hmmm? At this point in her life?"

"Oh, I don't know. We did a spot of impromptu traveling. It went well enough."

"From your point of view or hers?" the Brigadier pressed.

"You are suggesting I am a bit obtuse about her feelings?"

"Yes. So, you are more than happy to have her travel about with you?"

"Hence the whole, bruising proposal," the Doctor said with a bit of temper. "Yes!"

"But if she wanted to _**stay put**_, would you?"

"Yes. I would."

"You would?" Sarah asked from the doorway behind him.

"Yes, Sarah," the Doctor said in voice that sounded sad to be doubted.

Alastair understood enough about women to know the new look on Sarah Jane's face meant that the Doctor had just won the war.

///

"I changed my mind," she said, tracing his lower lip that night as they lay in bed. "The pout can stay. It's cute."

"Ah, you've changed your mind about the _**pout**_." He said it lightly, but with perhaps a touch of disappointment. As if he had thought, there might have been something else that she would have changed her mind about.

"And..." she said, pulling closer and then meticulously crawling on top of him. "We could get married on one of those worlds, if you wanted. This one even."

"Oooh, that's a vote of confidence, I suppose."

"It's not about last night," she said with a friendly slap to his arm. "I've just done some thinking. Alright? But, I do think knowing we are compatible in _that_ respect is good. But I ..."

"'Compatible?! _**Compatible**_ in that respect?' I was feeling a bit more than compatible. I think I'm wounded," he teased.

She peeked under the covers, "You don't LOOK wounded. Now... what I meant to say is that we are compatible... _**exceedingly**_ compatible over all," she stressed. "_**And**_ you are officially amazing in yet one more way."

She leaned down slowly then to nuzzle at his neck. He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her closer. He was ready when her mouth found his and he kissed her soundly ... until his mind interfered.

"Sarah Jane?" he mumbled into her kiss. She pulled back, resigned that she had lost his interest for the moment.

"Yes?" she said with mock sweetness, as she sat up and wiggled against him.

"I just had an.... Oh, not fair," he said when he could no longer block out what she was doing. He surprised her then with a quick move that landed her on her back with him looming over her. Smiling.

"As I was saying," he continued. "I just had an idea. Speaking of amazing. What do you think about the possibility of doing amazing things in that lovely, oversized attic of yours...."

She looked confused. She knew she did not dare look intrigued.

"Renovations!" he clarified. "I could suggest some impressive renovations. Some installation projects. Things the neighbors need not know about. Things that would give the Brigadier fits." He was grinning now, she noticed.

"Something tells me this is not along the lines of just getting satellite TV?"

"Oh, sure it is. It's definitely along those lines. You just need to .... well, draw that line out very far."

"Could we talk about this in the morning?" she asked. "I was in the middle of something when you interrupted me."

"R-r-r-right," he agreed, as his memory improved.

* * *

_**A/N: The Brigadier has not met Seven before despite the events of Battlefield. That is a bit in the Brigadier's future, oddly enough. According to Doctor Who WIKI, Battlefield is set in circa 1997 while this fic is set in 1991. So, yes! Imagine the Brig's surprise when Seven shows up with Ace instead of Sarah Jane a few years hence!**_

_**Thanks for reading!!!**_


	13. Chapter 13

_**A/N: There will be enough seriousness in the other chapters that I hope you will excuse the tomfoolery in this one.**_

_**

* * *

  
**_

In the weeks that followed, there were trips to the TARDIS and armfuls of gadgets coming out.

Today, the Doctor was lying under a console he was building in her attic when she returned from the university. She could only see the bottom half of him, he was worked so far into the machinery. K-9 was next to him, with a patient sort of look about him... at least Sarah always thought he seemed patient.

"Duncan?" Sarah called out. Cautiously, she nudged some of the debris on her floor with her toe while she waited for him to respond. But she got no reply at all. If anything, the little figure was wiggling further into the wall. "Doctor!" she tried. But she still got no answer. She knelt down then and grabbed ahold of his trousers at the knee. "Pooh Bear!"

"Mistress?" K-9 asked, sounding, if possible, quite disturbed.

"She's home, isn't she K-9?" came the Doctor's disembodied voice, finally.

"Yes, Master."

"Does she look mad, K-9? 'Cause I'm not coming out if she looks mad."

"Stop playing about," Sarah insisted. She grabbed him by both knees and managed to pull him out a bit before giving up.

He scooted out then, chuckling. There was plaster in his hair and wires dangling from a pocket. He look so happy, she couldn't possibly be angry.

"What are you doing?" she asked, surveying the rubble that had until recently been her wall and chimney.

"A little something. Just a highly advanced alien super computer. I do like to tinker. Keeps my mind sharp." And he grinned at her from his spot amid the debris.

All of these things he had planned. Projects. It all made her suspicious. As if he was leaving her with something to ease the guilt.

"Is it because you'll go again?" she asked cautiously.

"It_** is**_ in my nature," he admitted. He was sitting up now, looking at her with a soft expression. "Well, and it is in the nature of the universe to pull me away. But I want to stay. A long time, Sarah Jane. But, I worry that THIS me isn't someone you'll want here indefinitely."

She could not imagine becoming so fed up with him that she ever asked him to leave, but she could not fail to see the perverse humor in the situation. "So, paradoxically, this regeneration is the most suited to being here with me. This one is not as restless. And is better with emotions. But the truth is, I may not be able to stand this new you?"

"Paradoxically," he said with a broad smile. "Yes. The universe would not have it any other way. Consider the oddity of it! The man you fell in love with only eventually changed to become the man who could love you. But then, or now.... See, I am not the man you fell in love with at all. And being a Time Lord..."

She crawled closer to him and began to push his shoulders back until they hit the floor. He struggled to complete his thoughts while she kissed him. "You are ruining a beautiful moment," she told him with mock harshness.

"Yes, well, SOME things are universal constants," he said, almost proudly.

///

"Sarah Jane?" he said as he walked into the kitchen a few days later.

"Yes?" she said warily. Something in his tone told her he was worried about whatever he needed to say.

"I can't get the work upstairs done. Not without a few key pieces I just don't have."

"And?"

"I know where to get them.... It's just that..."

"It's not someplace on Earth."

He nodded.

"Don't look at me that way," she griped.

"Like?"

"That hang dog look. As if you think I'll tell you not to go. Just tell me it's reasonably safe. Tell me we'll be back in less than a week..."

"You'll come?"

That was what led to the first trip. Others followed as he worked to transform her attic. There were jaunts to strange inter-galactic warehouses and rummage sales. She loved to see him happy and these places delighted him. They would walk the aisles together. He eyeing the things for sale, his fingers excitedly drumming at his lips. His eyes lighting up. Mostly, she just enjoyed watching him. She smiled at the childlike reactions in him and held open the back pack that he was fast filling with strange purchases.

Always, they were gone for a month, but back in a week. She wondered at that. It was as if he was trying to cheat time.

///

She thought about her favorite trip now, as she curled up behind him in their bed in the house. With a single finger, she traced the strange tattoo near his shoulder. She smiled hard thinking about it. He hadn't known the marks were part of the ritual when he had surprised her with that trip to Nabord Proximal.

...

"You're telling me there is no market on Nabord Proximal? Nothing here you need to buy?" she said sounding confused and suspicious. "So, why are we here?"

"I thought this could be our honeymoon trip."

"We aren't married," she reminded him, narrowing her gaze at him.

"Minor oversight," he said, distractedly poking at the TARDIS console. "We'll do that here. There is a registry. It's a simple process. We sign a few forms and get our certificate. Married. For 6 months."

"This does not sound very romantic."

"Was that one of the criteria?" he asked innocently. He got no verbal reply but was detecting _**something**_ in her manner. "Sarah. I think we should do this. If nothing else consider it _**wedding**_ research. We will get married here. Have a honeymoon where ever you choose, and then move on to better things..."

He was able to place the look finally. It was somewhere in between utter disbelief and complete condemnation.

"K-9 is counting on this," he assured her.

She couldn't help the laugh that burst out of her then. "Now, you are making things up."

"I can't get married alone. Not on this planet anyway," he complained as he walked for the interior door. He patted down his pockets while he walked until he found the small silver whistle he was looking for. Poking his head into the hall way, he blew on the whistle. "You'll see," he concluded cryptically.

Arms crossed defiantly over her chest, she was determined not to be swayed by the appearance of the little metal dog... no matter how much she liked him.

She heard K-9's whirring and steeled herself. Then she saw him and her resolve began to crack. He was painted white, wearing a bow tie and a crown of flowers. Oddly enough, on K-9, the combination worked.

"K-9, who did this to you? Who dressed you up?"

"The Master. For the wedding, Mistress."

"Sarah doesn't want to get married, K-9," the Doctor said with epic sadness in his voice. Sarah tried to object that that was not what she had said at all. While she did, K-9 rolled toward her, stopped and cocked his head at her.

"No wedding, Mistress? The Master was very much looking forward to the wedding."

Sarah stared hard at the little dog. That response seemed a bit out of character. She fixed the Doctor with a hard gaze while she crouched down to address K-9. "And you, K-9... were you looking forward to the wedding?"

"Very much, Mistress. The Master promised I could be the ring bearer and flower girl."

That reply synched it for Sarah. "Ring bearer and flower girl? You've gone too far now, Doctor." He took that form of address as a bad sign. He figured a 'Pooh Bear' was out of the question, given her mood. But had been hoping for a 'Duncan.'

"Hmmm?" he asked vaguely. His face was all innocence, and his eye brows were arched painfully.

"You've added some sort of 'pro-wedding' subroutine to K-9."

"If I had, would that be romantic?" Perhaps, he had managed just the right tone to that. Or maybe he had mastered the conciliatory look he had been working on. Because, he could see her start to waver. "I mean," he continued, "it was a lack of romance that started this problem, right? Well, I would think we are passed that. Easily," he said hopefully, gesturing at K-9.

...

The 'ceremony' went well, although it reminded Sarah Jane of the process involved in renewing her car license more than anything else. They both (well, all three of them, really) looked marvelous in the outfits they had selected. The groom had thought them finished, when the clerk told him. "Just one thing left then. The ritual tattoos of bonding. Open your shirts please."

When the Doctor looked askance at the device being walked towards him, the smiling clerk re-assured him. "Not to worry. The mark completely disappears when the marriage expires. Any discomfort is temporary."

He watched Sarah slip her shoulder out of her blouse and submit to the tattoo with a smile. "Matching tattoos," she said with an appreciation for the humor to be seen in the absurdity. "How positively trendy."

"How ... romantic," he quipped as he surveyed his own arm and the clerk's handiwork there.

"You may kiss the bride, Master," K-9 uttered.

///


	14. Chapter 14

///

There were a few elusive bits of equipment the Doctor still hoped to find. And there was the prospect of Christmas shopping on strange worlds. He knew Sarah Jane would be amazed by the market on Galep, should the TARDIS cooperate and manage the trip as planned.

It was decidedly Galep where they'd arrived. The exact time period he was not sure of, but it was advanced enough that it looked promising for his necessary purchases.

The business district stretched on for miles. It was coarse and unsanitary. Still, it was exciting and bustling, and he was sure Sarah was still the kind of girl who would enjoy it.

...

There were probably a hundred booths, Sarah Jane decided. Many of them held electronics parts and earned at least a look from the Doctor. After an hour, they found that one seller had just what he needed. He 'ooh'd' and 'ah'd' over the components, finally making the sale. He turned, handing the pieces to Sarah Jane to put in her satchel. He was frozen then for a split second that she distinctly registered. "Do not over react. We cannot risk drawing attention to ourselves here," he warned her quietly.

His body had been warning enough. She had registered the change in him before she even heard his words. His arms and chest had gone rigid. His jaw was set hard now, and there was none of the tentative sweetness in his eyes that she had grown used to. She wanted to ease away from him, but she held still.

She had seen this switch flip in the Brigadier. And to a lesser extent in the Doctor's previous regenerations. This Doctor was unknowable right now. And 'Duncan' was obviously gone. It was a frightening prospect to see something in your husband that you had never seen before.

What was it he had said all those months ago? That he had lost the stomach for all those things he had been fashioned for. 'Fashioned for.' As if he pictured himself a wind-up soldier. A device employed by others for things no one would care to do. She worried, but pressed on.

"Can you tell me?" she asked lightly, in case they were overheard.

He looked down then, met her eyes at last, and faked a smile. "Across the square from us," he whispered. "Just take a casual turn about."

She moved cautiously as if just surveying the market. A line of slight, bluish beings was being marshaled through the rows toward the center. "Are those... ?

"Yes. Slaves. They're Pelorians. Someone must be having a slave auction today," he said gravely.

"You seen this here before?"

"Centuries ago. This market place is full of _**thieves**_, but _**this,**_" he ground our tensely, "I did not expect."

A new set of three was being pushed past.

"They're so small," Sarah whispered.

"Because they are quite young," the Doctor informed her.

Sarah flinched at that news.

"The slavers, those burly fellows, are Usurians. They can adopt a humanoid form, but in their natural state they resemble seaweed. The field guide at school referred to them as poisonous fungi. Don't move. Now. Don't stare," he reminded her. He traced a cold finger down her cheek to distract her, and it was so unlike his usual touch, she wished he hadn't.

His other arm was snug around her and she tried to relax a bit. She saw his small smile that seem to reward that effort.

"You can't let them know you disapprove," he said in a voice that was not quite his own.

"Right," she said, "because otherwise they will be looking for something to happen."

She turned more fully to him. Gave him a fake smile for the benefit of everyone who bustled around them. Cautiously, she pulled closer to him. With her lips to his ear then she whispered, "Because something _**is**_ going to happen, right?"

His grasp was stiff, almost uncomfortable as he pulled her still tighter against him to complete their amorous show. "Of course, something is going to happen." His focus left her then as he obviously considered the situation.

His eyes snapped to as a large, slick-looking thing passed them - gurgling it's disapproval. The creature may have been upset that they were blocking the path. Or perhaps, it was because Sarah's hands were touching an area on the Doctor's chest that alien considered indecent. But the Doctor figured it was because Sarah's pleased noises sounded distinctly like that species' petition for a conjugal visit.

"Honeymoon," the Doctor apologized, doffing his hat.

He receive a very dismayed sounding bray in reply as the thing backed away now.

"She can't help it!" The doctor called after him, as he protectively pulled Sarah's head ridiculously closer to him.

She marveled at the change in him. He had gone from tense and fierce, to calm and ready for action. He had set upon a course of action she knew, or he would not have been able to act that odd, little play.

He took Sarah's hand then and kissed it, as he watched the offended alien skitter away.

"I don't suppose you know anything about explosives?" he queried.

"Beyond what I picked up in weekend jaunts with Alistair? Hand grenades and a little C-4, no," she answered quite seriously.

His eyes grew wider gradually while he considered her. "I had been joking, actually. You **_have_** been busy," he said, clucking his tongue with something more like worry than outright dismay. It was that tone that wonders if you know the person you are standing with.

She knew that look on his face. The 'we have just been joined by the ghost of boyfriends past' look. "Sorry," she told him.

"Just remember," he said distractedly. "_**You**_ are the one who brought him up this time."

With that frightening quickness he was given to, he pulled her in and kissed her. Then they spun on the spot slowly, his eyes open and scanning. Instantly, she knew, she was part of his ruse. And she tried not to resent it or the way their conversations hung half done. He was surveying things, weighing options. Finalizing his plan.

...

And it wasn't much of a plan. It was the same one she swore she and the Doctor had tried too often before. A bit of distraction. A bit of stealth. A bit of magic from the sonic screw driver. And then invariably, she knew, there would be that call to 'run!' There was a noticeable change, however. She was staring at her palm where the sonic screw driver lay, still amazed he had placed it there.

"They are going to be watching me, not you. I'll be the distraction this time." She looked into his eyes. The old dandy would have winked then and squeezed her arms reassuringly. The Fourth Him would have grinned like an imbecile and raked the back of his hand across his mouth. "You set the prisoners free," she heard this one say. This one. Her husband. Someone she felt she didn't always know. She had to remind herself that those other Time Lords were still in there.

She gulped in reply, but nodded. "And we meet back at the TARDIS," she managed. "This is the worst honeymoon I've ever had."

He looked derailed suddenly. His eyes turned all sad and thoughtful then. She poked him in the ribs with one hand while the other pocketed the screwdriver. "Gotcha," she told him with a smile. "I love you," she reminded them both.

His smile was answer enough.

He dug distractedly in his pockets as they slowly meandered towards the platform in the market center.

She felt her lungs tighten a bit in anticipation once they were separated. And then it all went to hell as it always invariably did. There was the unmistakable sound of beings swearing in aggravation at her husband. The rush of impatient footsteps. The clamor of people hitting the ground. She had to smile at that last one, hoping (and suspecting) that Venusian Karate was one of those things that had carried through in this iteration of this Time Lord. As she grabbed the first young slave from the back of the line and pulled him behind a booth, she tried to envision what Venusian Karate looked like when it involved a red handled brolly.

She freed all 6 Pelorians in less than a minute with only one minor scuffle from a Usurian. All the Pelorians hurried off running without a word of warning from her. She had to trust the Doctor would meet her as planned at the TARDIS, so she took off in the direction of the blue box.

She was the first one to clear the ornamental hedge that stood 50 yards in front of the TARDIS. Well, not _**clear**_ exactly. The satchel she was still carrying caught on what was likely a representation of a bird's beak, and she tumbled across with an oath. She looked up and saw the Doctor following, tripping spectacularly.

"You are supposed to be the coordinated one," she reminded him with a groan as she rubbed at her tail bone.

"Yes. I was. And _**you**_ never used to swear."

She huffed a few breaths, "I got old and foul mouthed apparently."

"One more thing to blame on the _**Brigadier**_?" he mused as he peeked over the hedge to make sure no one was following them.

She finished dusting herself off and lined herself up with the TARDIS like a track runner, ready to sprint. With a glance over her shoulder, she told him, "I take full responsibility for the foul language. He never cared for it, either." She waited two full beats and then reminded the Doctor. "And _**you**_ are the one who brought him up this time."

The twitching smile on his face told her he was adding all of this insight to the play in his brain entitled, '_Sarah Jane and Alistair: The Break up.' _ "Still," he said, nonchalantly. "Language like that? No pudding for you tonight." He spared the time to wink at her.

She laughed a bit and considered him. He was back and knowable again. And remarkably cool considering a group of slavers was no doubt looking for them. "You've lost your hat," she chided.

"Nay! The fact that it is missing is purposeful." He looked around in every direction and saw none of the angered Usurians. No sign of the disturbance that had gripped their corner of the market a brief time before. With swift, jerky movements he was on his feet pulling her along towards the TARDIS. "Coast is clear," he said. "But let's move along quickly, eh?"

"The hat?" she reminded him.

"Precision disc that hat. I shall miss it. And the umbrella. Bent beyond recognition that one."

"What do you mean about a precision disc?"

"Those hats are perfectly weighed. I can fling them for meters."

"Ah ha!" she said, joyously. "I bet you chucked it someplace down an alley to throw them off."

"Exactly! But they should have exhausted that little dead end by now..... so...."

"I know," she said, quickening her pace. "Run!!"

And with perfectly matched strides, they churned up the remaining meters to the ship's door.

///

Three Pelorian fellows were hiding behind the TARDIS. Sarah Jane's nerves were raw enough that she screamed when she saw them. Realizing it was the slight blue creatures who were being held captive, and not the Usurian slavers, she clamped a hand over her mouth and looked sheepish.

"Well, get in," the Doctor said to everyone with impatience. The three creatures, two large and one small, walked in with a flushed Sarah Jane trailing.

The Doctor closed the door quickly and headed to the console, talking hurriedly as he went. "There were 6 of you. Where are the others?"

"Ran off. Looking for transport," the tallest answered.

The small one was squealing and pointing at Sarah Jane, but like most children, he found himself in the place of being ignored.

"Why can't I understand him?" Sarah Jane said as she eased closer to the small blue fellow.

"Because," the Doctor said. "He isn't talking. He is crying."

"Is he hurt?"

"He wanted to come here. With you. He said _**you**_ were hurt," the large Pelorian said.

"I'm fine," she told the little fellow. "Really. Landed on my.... well, never mind. But I'm fine." She turned her attention to the Doctor again. "Where are we taking them?"

"Their home planet. I need time data," and he motioned to the tall alien to join him at the console.

The small one's squealing got louder now that he felt fully ignored. He moved closer to Sarah Jane and while she tried to comfort him, he bent over and began tugging on her pant leg.

And they heard his first clear words then. "Tentacles. Usurian's."

The Doctor froze for a second before clamoring to Sarah Jane's side. He crouched down and pulled up the pant leg himself to expose a red welt.

"Sarah Jane?" he said quietly in a voice that worried her.

"The slaver at the end of the line saw me. He was angry. He started to change from humanoid to that seaweed stuff. Like you said they could. I cranked the sonic screwdriver to see if that would bug him. It did, but not enough. I smacked him with the bag I was carrying, and I ran off. With this fellow near by," she said indicating the young alien.

"But the Usurian got you in the ankle before you made off."

"Poisonous fungi," Sarah said, ominously echoing the Doctor's earlier description.

"This is all my fault," he said quietly. He stood up and without warning, lifted Sarah Jane into his arms.

"We're going to the infirmary?"

"Smart girl. Now lie still," he told her as he trod through the door and down the corridor. Sarah Jane peeked round the Doctor's shoulder and was not surprised that the young Pelorian was following them.

///

"It doesn't even hurt," she insisted from her spot on the infirmary's exam table.

"Oh, not yet," the Doctor said, as he busied himself with a box full of supplies. "There is an initial anesthetic property to the tentacle's venom. Like with a mosquito's bite."

"Speaking of mosquitoes...." she trailed off as she sat up to scratch at her leg.

"It's starting to itch," he finished for her.

Her husband grabbed her foot and pulled it away so she couldn't reach it. Then he produced a knife and without warning, slit her pants up to her waist.

The little fellow and Sarah Jane both squealed in alarm.

"Duncan. Um, darling?" she tried. "I liked those pants."

"I'm more fond of you. I need to get this treated before it spreads." His hands were moving the whole time he was talking, searching up her leg. He grabbed the knife again and slit the other side of her pants. He checked that leg quickly, and then with jerky motions he had the remnants of her pants off her.

"I'm naked," she complained as she adjusted her underwear. "And we have company," she said indicating their young friend.

"He feels responsible for you. I figured it would be rude to ask him to leave."

"Right," she said sounding resigned and tired. "Let the the whole universe look at your wife in her knickers." She closed her eyes for a moment and let herself go limp against the exam table. A hand brushed at her hair and something warm nuzzled at her collar bone. Something too warm to be her husband.

'Robbie,' she decided his name was, with a sigh. And she gave him a pat to the back of his head. Well, if young Robbie was crooning reassuring sounding noises into her neck, at least he wasn't looking at her underwear, she reasoned.

Her eyes snapped open then when the cold antiseptic wash hit her. She was starting to be a bit concerned. There was no more banter from her husband. He was all business. Opening tubes of cream. Pulling long rolls of bandages out from a drawer with those fast, talented fingers of his.

He found a bottle of pills then and with a happy "A Ha!" opened it and handed it to 'Robbie.'

"Two. She gets two." The Doctor opened his mouth and pointed in. "Nasty tasting things. Make sure she swallows them." And he gave Sarah Jane a wink that made her feel a bit better.

Robbie was taking his duty quite seriously, she could see. He sat her up and poked the pills deep into her mouth one at a time. She gagged, and he shook his head at her, admonishing her to not dare cough them back up.

"I'm going to be alright?" she asked once she had recovered from the vile tasting pills.

"Of course."

"You got so quiet. I got worried."

"It's different," he said in a hushed voice as he leaned over her ankle and rubbed the creams in.

"Because we are married?" she asked gently.

"And because it's my fault. You wanted to stay put.... Alistair told me I would muck this up. Told me I shouldn't..."

In his anger he tore at the bandage rather violently.

"Dunc..."

"Sleep, Sarah Jane," he said too roughly. In a more conciliatory tone he told her, "Those pills and all these toxins in your body should be making you very tired."

"Not till you..." and she made a grab that connected with his lapel.

And he understood. And he congratulated himself on at least that much, that he knew what his wife needed from him then.

He kissed her and lingered there, his forehead pressed lightly against hers.

"You know?" she insisted.

"Yes," he rather grumbled.

"Say it," she said, as her eyes closed sleepily.

"You love me. You don't blame me."

"Right. And?" she teased with a drugged looking grin.

"And?" he asked, confused.

"You are a great kisser," she slurred. With a sloppy pull to his jacket she urged him to kiss her once more.

"We have company. Remember?" he told her once he had finished kissing her again. "Remember how you hate kissing me in your underwear in front of the whole universe?"

"Oh, yeah," she smiled and fell asleep.

///


	15. Chapter 15

**Warning: Playful, non-graphic adult banter and an abuse of Latin in the first bit here. If Time Lords in bed squicks you, skip to the ###. The first section illustrates some behavior changes since the last chapter, though.**

///

"Again?" she teased, as she felt his hands on her in the near dark of their room. But she smiled, seeing the benefit to the two hearts in a new light.

"Again. Still," he answered. "More. The more the merrier. More haste, less speed," he off-quoted.

" 'Veni, vidi, vici?' " she asked with a laugh.

"Over and again. 'Si vis amari, ama.' If you want to be loved, love."

" 'Cum laude magnum.' With great success," she countered, as she dragged a single finger down his chest..

"Mock not, dear lady. The Ancient Texts say: A Worthy Man of Gallifrey earns his woman ... seven times..."

"Earns? Um, seven times?"

"Seven times the night they are bonded..." he clarified intently.

"Seven?"

"Seven is a powerful number in the Ancient..."

"Seven is, well..."

"Five to go," came the whisper at her neck.

"In _**one**_ night?"

He huffed in feigned impatience. "There is the difference in the length of day to consider between Earth and Gallifrey, but really, I can't be bothered to worry about that right now." He kissed her more and then stopped again. "I suppose it might not be a _**literal**_ translation," He lay completely still then for a moment as if engrossed in thought. Silent words danced across his lips. "Um, no. That's right. That's what it says," he told her. " 'Seven times the night they are bonded.' " And he rolled back to kiss at her collar bone.

"Whoa. Wait. _**Bonded?**_" she asked.

"Bonded. Linked. Paired. Completed. United. Usually, you are so good with words, Sarah Jane," he taunted in between kisses.. "It means 'wedded.' "

"Wedded? Is this a _**Gallifreyan**_ wedding we are working ourselves up to?" she asked, warily.

"We? I am the one doing all the work, it seems. It would help matters if you stopped talking and cooperated."

"_**Just**_ cooperated?" she teased.

"Well, how about 'cooperated with enthusiasm?'"

###

He'd been like this since the inauspicious trip to Galep. Attentive. Eager to please. Domestic. He'd gone near saccharine with sweetness and courtesy. Become someone other than himself.

It was odd, but not something she could bring herself to complain about.

What would she say? _"Please, Duncan. Could you be less.... perfect."_ But that was the point. If he wasn't being him, it wasn't so perfect. Not that him being him was ... well, perfect.

Dinner with Alastair and his girlfriend Doris was just one more symptom of how wrong things had gotten. Everyone was on edge. Sarah was trying hard to pretend there had never been anything between her and the Brigadier for Doris' sake. Doris was trying to impress Alastair's friends. And the Brigadier was hoping topics of conversation would not turn to Yeti or Cybermen or any of the 1,000 things he and the Doctor had in common. Things that would be destined to have Doris write him off too soon.

But it was the Doctor who was most jarring in his efforts to be universally agreeable. More mindful than ever that he was not what the Brigadier thought Sarah deserved, he tried ever so hard to be... 'normal.'

It became a frightfully boring evening with everyone afraid to talk. Conversation was limited to praise for what Sarah Jane had cooked and for the house décor. And when Doris chimed in with, "You folks have known Alastair far longer than I have. Certainly, you must have some good stories."

The Doctor's unfortunate reply was, "Good stories? Oh, well, that is problematic."

///

"It isn't working, you know," Sarah said to the ceiling in the darkened room later that night.

"The sonic lipstick? I thought I had that miniaturization circuit perfect."

"You have to know what I'm talking about," she told him in a tired voice. "Even you are not this obtuse."

"No? You sure about that?" he said with a heavy, self-pitying sigh.

"You need to stop trying so hard. You need to stop treating this relationship, and me, like we are going to... well, break."

"Well, at least the lip stick is working then? I got _**that**_ right?" he said with a smile in his voice. It was a good try at deflecting the conversation at hand.

"Doctor?"

"Crud. It's 'Doctor' now, is it?"

"I don't want you to think you have to be someone you're not. And 'the Doctor' is the one I truly love."

"The one in the velvet?" he joked.

"No," she crooned back.

"That over-sized fellow with the big scarf?"

"No," she whispered as she turned on to her side to put an arm around him. "Smaller fellow. Much more manageable set of scarves, too. Truly adorable sort. And sweet. He was the one who came back. Came back to stay, and told me he loved me. Can't you understand? I love you the way you are. The way you were, before you got so careful. Before you started doubting yourself."

"When I was endangering your life? Causing you to nearly lose your job? Not managing to keep my promises..."

"Promise me this, now, Love. Let's not ruin this by trying to fix it."

There was a pause where she could sense him trying to parse or solve what he took for a riddle. He yielded the effort then with a small sounding, "Sarah?"

"We need to get away."

///

The three months after that, they were together a year by her reckoning. They traveled and returned. Their weekend jaunts were weeks long. They saw 60 worlds. And in dutiful form, in their time at home, he finished his work in the attic. While she kept up her guise of being something close to normal with her friends and neighbors.

They always seemed to end their trips with time parked in a vortex where they were untouched by time. Where even the normal pulls of aging were somewhat discounted.

He was very wary, she could tell. Worried that even though he was a Time Lord, time would betray them. That his luck would run out.

///

They decided to get married over Christmas break in the town registrar's office. He insisted it was a chance to show her that he still loved her, that he could be romantic. She suspected he just wanted to see if he could get away with creating a new identity for himself without UNIT's help.

All of his playing about with a computer system in the attic had yielded him the easy ability to produce whatever documents he needed. "What I really need," he lamented, as he surveyed the stack of papers he had created, "is just one piece of paper that would be whatever all of the universe's anal bureaucrats need it to be."

"Some sort of universal I.D.?" she asked, winking at her own pun.

"No, a sort of.... psychic document that showed people what they want to see. You might as well show people what they want. There's no harm in that," he said with a mischievous smile and a tap of his finger to her nose.

///

There were some raised eyebrows. They were moving fast as far as the world was concerned. This man Duncan had moved in at the beginning of summer and never left. He was the reason she'd quit her teaching job. And whether he was an old friend or no, it seemed a bit strange to Sarah Jane's friends that she should be getting married only a few months after he had arrived out of nowhere.

"Well forget what anyone else thinks. This is fortuitous, I tell you," Evelyn said on a visit to their house.

"Fortuitous?" Sarah asked cautiously.

"His name is Smith. You'll not need to change your luggage tags!"

"How do you think I got her to agree so easily," the Doctor said, too seriously from behind his book.

...

It was a lovely, simple ceremony. The couple was remarkable, the few guests noted, for their complete lack of nerves. "It's as if the two of them have done this all before," Doris remarked to Alastair. "Or as if they were just simply that right for each other."

"Quite," her fiance told her with an uncontained smirk.

And as Alastair lifted the champagne to his smiling lips, he heard the brash Evelyn behind him talking with the bride. "A world cruise? You are going to sail around the entire world," Evelyn demanded.

"Oh, at the very least," Sarah answered with exaggerated gravity.

And with a happy shake of his head, Alastair wisely gave up trying to get any of his drink down him.

///

It had been years since that day, by any reckoning, even Evelyn's. Sarah Jane burrowed closer into her husband's back in their bed aboard the TARDIS. With a smile, she thought about her friend and their last meeting.

_Evelyn had shown up at their door with a bottle of champagne wanting to toast their anniversary. Sarah and the Doctor had been disoriented enough that they didn't know which one they were possibly celebrating._

"_It's been a lovely, wonderful year," the Doctor declared with bravado._

"_Three years," Sarah scolded, looking at her watch, as if for confirmation._

"_Oh, go on. Make fun, you two," Evelyn said. _

_The Doctor looked over his shoulder as he pulled glasses down from the cupboard. "My Sarah Jane," her husband said with a mischievous smile. "Not a serious bone in her body."_

The over head lights began to pulse in the TARDIS. The Doctor was awake in an instant, swinging his feet on to the floor and running his hands through his hair.

"What is it," Sarah asked as she began to push up from the bed.

"A message," he said lowly. He pulled his braces up over his shoulders. "I'm sure it's nothing important," he said seeing her concern. "I'll just be in the control room."

She relaxed then and continued to stare. She was enjoying the sight of him shirtless in the trousers and braces all too much. He must have felt her eyes on him. He stalled in the doorway. "What?" he pretended to complain.

"Just... adorable," she simply told him.

She could swear the TARDIS lights began to surge a bit faster then, as if the ship hated being ignored. Especially ignored for THAT type of thing.

* * *

A/N: Here is where the story begins to take its difficult turns towards completion. When I began this, I had thought I would use this romance to fill in the missing years in Seven's story (End of series to TV movie) and to give Sarah the yummy love life she deserved.

But I couldn't do just that. As Primsong said (quoting a great philosopher) "Canon Error: Apply Fanfiction? Yes/No"

And again the answer is 'Yes.'

So, I've gone and written two endings to this story. One that meets up with the TV movie and one that dodges that. The point at which they depart is when Seven makes a decision.


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: This unabashedly, bravely even :) , attempts to wrap up years of Who-dom... including the Sarah Jane Adventures... well, the way I wanted it wrapped. So, Bubble Shock and a boy named Luke get a mention here._

* * *

Sarah Jane caught up with him in the control room and knew from the first moment that the message was anything but routine.

"I won't go," he said weakly. He looked pale, sickly even, as he stood there gripping the console. He was being asked to leave her behind again, she guessed. And the sense of deja vu was a little too much for him, perhaps.

"What happened to 'I'm a Time Lord. If they call me, I must obey?'" she said, with as brave a sense of humor as she could manage.

"They can find someone else. The Time Lords have asked enough of me already. Too much!" he shouted. "I'm not a taxi. I said I wouldn't leave you, Sarah. And I won't. They have had their kilogram of flesh. The universe has raked me dry." A dozen colloquialisms ripe for mangling sprang to mind. "A hundred years off, really. I think that is reasonable. I'm pulling the blankets over my head. I'm taking the phone off the hook..."

"Tell me what they've asked," she told him quietly.

He stopped then with the realization that he had not even explained the situation to her yet. He stalked across the room after a second in search of the shirt he had carried up here. "The message was from The Council on Gallifrey," he explained with his head down as he pulled the garment on. "The Master....." He couldn't get the rest out. He blew out a breath and focused on the ceiling. "The Master's remains," he stressed. "They are on Skaro. Why would they do this? Why would he want to be collected and stored and transported..." He paused and met her eyes then. She shook her head with the gravity of all that knowledge – that the Daleks were involved somehow. That the Master was dead.

"Let's go home," he told her. "Better. Let's park in a vortex. I am pulling us off line for a while," he said talking faster now. "There is no one I want to hear from. Is there anyone you need to talk to right this minute?

"No," she said, hesitantly.

"Good." He froze then. Saw the uneasy way she was looking at him. "It's all right, Sarah. I'm not going to break. We'll be all right."

"If you say they can wait. I'll agree. We can go where ever you need to go. If you tell me you want to start at the beginning and do _**all**_ of it over again... I'm game," she reassured him.

The smile came over him slowly. She thought he would come closer. Hug her. Touch her somehow. But he just smiled broader and then dropped down until he was under the console. He pulled open the circuit door, and unbidden Sarah pulled his tool box from the corner of the room. "Magnetic Clamp?" she asked.

"Ha! No. The Moog Drone Clamp. They'll not even know I've cut communications."

///

"When will you switch it back on?" she asked him years later.

"Never."

"I know you don't mean never. Not your kind of never. Not a Time Lord's never."

"I won't leave you," he whispered with sweet kisses.

And he didn't. They continued on as they had. And for all her days remaining, she heard those words in his every touch on quiet nights.

When there were quiet nights.

There were things they could not escape, it seemed. The universe was simply destined to hand them things that needed to be done - whether they were on Earth or travelling.

Still, she could not convince him that a drink called Bubble Shock was any sort of a threat. He stayed home to tweak the TARDIS' stereo system the day she went to sneak into the factory.

"Duncan?" The tone was cautious. Her voice sounded worried. That was the sort of thing that got his attention even when he was on the floor of the TARDIS, buried under the console.

He peeked out and saw a pair of feet. Bare feet. Not his wife's feet. And the head that belonged to the feet must have gotten curious and impatient, because suddenly the Doctor was staring at the squatting form of a boy in a hospital gown.

###

"Father!" Luke called out, as they became separated while leaving a football stadium six months later.

If the idea of being a father again didn't make the Time Lord wince involuntarily from time to time, the boy's mannerisms and stiff speech patterns did.

The Doctor doubled back and took the boy's sleeve to pilot him through the crowd.

"Where is Mother?" Luke asked as he stumbled along beside the Time Lord.

"Had to powder her nose, so to speak."

Luke's eyebrows pinched together with the effort to follow the Doctor's meaning.

"She had to use the Ladies?" the Doctor tried then, but the boy still obviously didn't understand. "Visit the WC? Use the restroom. The toilet."

"Mother needed to urinate," Luke supplied then, happily.

Someone passing them giggled.

"Come here, lad," the new father said, as he found a bit of wall for them to stand near. The crowds thinned out around them, and the Doctor decided this was a good place to wait and talk. "Seems very unlikely that I would be tutoring anyone on how to fit in better," he said, clearing his throat. "But how about you call me, 'Dad.' And you could try calling your mother, 'Mum.' Also, we might want to work on getting you to slouch. And you could badger us a bit to give you pocket money and a telly for your room."

"Why?"

The Doctor took his hat off then and put it on the perplexed looking boy. Smiling, he ran his hands over Luke's shoulders and arms, as if he would shake the stiffness out of him. "Oh, you're a wonder," he pronounced.

"Maybe there's too much for me to learn?" Luke lamented. His chin began to sink to his chest sadly.

"Nooo," the Doctor said as he pulled the boy's face back up. "Look how fast you caught on to all of those things on our camping trip last weekend!"

"Like facing down wind when you..." Luke began, as he launched into a (fortunately brief) pantomime of the skill involved.

"Yes, that was an important one. Save you some laundry and some embarrassment. Speaking of embarrassment, I could tell you some stories about your mum... since we have the time."

When Sarah Jane returned, she found the pair of them, leaning against a wall, chatting. The Doctor's arm was around his new son's shoulders, and his hat was perched on the back of the boy's head.

"Hello, mum!" Luke said proudly. In a more halting voice he managed, "Dad says it's alright if I have a television in my room, but if he catches any girls up there I'm...." Luke looked to the Doctor now.

"Cooked," the little man supplied.

"Oh, the two of you," Sarah Jane said with a catch in her throat. "You're so adorable, I could burst."

Luke turned a painfully confused look to the Doctor who pulled him in closer. "That's good," the Time Lord whispered.

###

There were birthday parties and school projects, nights in front of the TV, and dinners out. But there were tense years while the Doctor tried to be patient. Tried to understand the protectiveness that Sarah felt for Luke.

He worked hard to relax, knowing they would go no further than a plane or car might take them, until Sarah was ready for Luke to travel in the TARDIS.

###

As the three of them stood in the console room, she was the only one nervous, she realized. They were set for a beach vacation, but Sarah worried they would end up some place impossibly dangerous... and that the boys would not be as cautious as she needed them to be.

Luke was more his father's than hers when they were in the TARDIS. It changed him. But that seemed a selfish, self-pitying sort of thought. So, she pushed that down, crossed the room and took up Luke's hand.

"What's wrong, Mum?" he asked innocently.

"Nothing," she lied.

She wished they knew how difficult it was to have her heart split in two like this. How much work it was to worry about the both of them now.

One look at them, and the matching grins, and she knew it was no use trying to explain.

"I'm the luckiest kid on Earth," Luke told her.

"On Earth?" the Doctor chimed in, "Why limit yourself?" And with a dramatic punch of the console buttons, they watched the TARDIS doors open on to a perfect beach of blue sand.

///

The Doctor kept his promise. He kept them safe; he didn't leave.

As time went on, he grayed his hair and walked a little slower.

When the house felt too empty, he worked hard to cheer her.

She squeezed his arm, and he replied with a grin broad enough to rival his Fourth Self's the day they watched Luke get married.

He coaxed the new baby to talk, convinced she could be made to say "Grandpa" before she'd even mastered "Mama."

But most importantly to Sarah Jane, he was simply with her. With her until her body failed her. Failed them both.

And _**she**_ left him.

///

Luke could smell the roses behind him through the open door of the TARDIS. And Luke understood the Time Lord well enough to suspect the door had been left open on purpose.

Because he knew his father couldn't shut out the garden and Sarah Jane's flowers a moment before he had to

- even if he was leaving.

"I don't like thinking about you going off on your own," Luke told him.

"I've been alone before," the Doctor said as bravely as he could manage from his spot at the console.

That statement was true. But meaningless. It didn't tell the young man what he should, the Doctor knew. So, he took a deep breath and turned to face his son. "I've been lucky. Luckier than I deserve. I had a beautiful run of it.... with your mum. I refuse to regret any of it. Not even the part where I am left standing here … without her."

"You know I can't go with you," Luke apologized. "I've got Claire, and the girls have all manner of..."

"Luke, I know."

He switched the communication circuit back on and waited. Willing the channel to be empty, wanting to be left alone a little longer.

But the lights began to surge then and the message came through clearly.

///

_A/N: I will now double back to the point where the original call comes in to the TARDIS. So there is more coming to the story (a sort of alternate timeline), but I would appreciate a pat on the head for this. It was hard to write. :(_


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N: This brings poor Seven through the TV movie. With obvious changes, deletions, inventions and poetic license._

///

Rewind....

_Sarah Jane caught up with him in the control room and knew from the first moment that the message was anything but routine._

_"I won't go," he said weakly. He looked pale, sickly even, as he stood there gripping the console. He was being asked to leave her behind again, she guessed. And the sense of deja vu was a little too much for him, perhaps._

_"What happened to 'I'm a Time Lord. If they call me, I must obey?'" she said, with as brave a sense of humor as she could manage._

_..._

"I said I wouldn't leave you. I promised."

But the call worked at him from the inside. It troubled him as the hours turned to days. So, she told him it was all right. She insisted that she understood that he remained a Time Lord despite being her husband. Despite his promises. And that if there was something the Council required, he should not turn them down because of her - unless he had truly considered it.

He opened his mouth to object, but couldn't. He was caught between the loyalty he owed those on Gallifrey and that he owed Sarah. And he doubted that the Council was very likely to be as understanding as his wife was....

Well, as understanding as Sarah was saying she was.... how could she really be all right with the prospect of him running off to Skaro to retrieve the Master?

He knew for sure then that he did not deserve her. And that the Council was just as undeserving of his continued obedience.

///

So, that button on the console flashed at them for a month... before he gradually, yielded.

"But to do this..." he began sounding pained.

"You don't want me with you. You don't trust this arrangement," she said for him.

"It involves the Master. It involves the Daleks," he said tensely. "How could I?"

"So, you go, you're careful, and you come straight home to me. End of story," she told him trying to sound more confident than she felt.

She put on a brave face as she stood in her garden watching him prepare to close the door. He could be back in 5 minutes, she told herself. Nothing to worry about. Don't say 'goodbye.' Just I love you. It isn't good bye.

///

It was as if it was all happening to someone else, Sarah Jane thought. They were talking to her. But she was just watching from the outside.

The walls were getting further away now, and a flood of words was echoing to her from down a long noisy corridor. But that wasn't right. She was just in her house, she knew. And it was only Alistair and his wife Doris there with her.

The sensation Sarah had now was of being lowered into a chair. "He was in hospital? In San Francisco?" she parroted back, sounding confused. "Alistair, are they sure? Sure it was him?"

It was a ridiculous, desperate question, but she heard herself ask it.

She knew they would have gone through all the proper steps to get this news to her. The American authorities would have contacted the British ones. Normally, it would be the local police who would have come to her door. But she also knew, of course, that anything with her name on it or Duncan Smith's would have been red flagged and ended up in Alistair's hands.

And that dear man would never have driven out here to give her this news unless he had confirmed it all.

"Yes, Sarah. We're sure. I... I made them fax me a photo," the Brigadier told her.

"But he was shot? _**Shot?!**_ How could he manage that after everything else...." Sarah trailed off. "He... died in surgery?"

"Sarah, we'll fly out there with you," Doris said gently.

Sarah could only manage to shake her head at first. "No. I'll go alone. I just don't know what to expect..." she said vaguely.

///

They hadn't let her go alone. And as they navigated the relatively smooth 'official military' channels that Alistair had access to, rather than the bourgeois ones Sarah would have had been relegated to, she was glad.

Chief among their problems was that they were there to retrieve the body of someone who had apparently snuck into the country.

"How would you like me to believe he got here?" one exasperated under secretary finally asked.

"I would like you to believe whatever makes this inquiry stop," Alistair said leaning across the desk. "I would like you to admit that he came here properly and your system failed to record it. Or I would like you to view it as an alien visitation," he said with only the faintest twitch of his mustache to infer that he might be kidding. "Because, I really can't be bothered to sort out your problems for you. Perhaps you'd prefer to pretend none of this happened. Because, as far as the Prime Minister and the Queen are concerned...." and here Alistair paused, making the official hold his breath, "it didn't."

///

Sarah Jane sat in the hospital administrator's office with Doris next to her. Alistair stood in his service's version of 'at ease,' which was distinctly uneasy looking.

"Nothing strange happened when he died?" Sarah Jane asked the woman behind the desk. "No... light? No noise? No... appearances?"

The administrator took this for grief. Some strange expression of her religion. But Sarah wondered if the Doctor's body had tried to regenerate at all.

"No. He died during surgery. Resuscitation failed," the gray haired woman said solemnly. "They are retrieving the body now for you to transport home."

_Then he truly died this time._ Sarah Jane thought. _The damage was too much to allow him to regenerate. _

Doris squeezed her hand then, as if she had registered the finality of Sarah Jane's thoughts.

There was a knock at the office door and whispering followed. Urgent voices that she heard saying "gone." He was gone. The body was missing. Just gone. "And how do I explain that to the widow?" was frantically hissed back.

But Sarah understood. Or she thought she did. He had failed to regenerate, and his body was likely just a mass of energy the universe had reclaimed. They had never spoken of what happened when a Time Lord died. Really died.

Yes, the Master had managed to have his remains 'captured,' but his death had been planned, an execution. Not an accident on someplace like Earth where Time Lords were unknown.

###

"Does all this seem right, Alistair? I don't trust my reactions at all right now," she told her old friend as they stood alone in the hall. "But somehow I'm not surprised that there would be no body. Or nothing they would recognize."

"If you are asking me if he ever explained what would happen if he failed to regenerate... he didn't, Sarah Jane."

But this made sense, she thought numbly.

///

She took the strangely dressed man for an amnesia victim. Or a mental patient who had walked out of a local ward.... only there wasn't one near her neighborhood.

It was the confused look to his eyes. That unmistakable worry that you are forgetting something and getting things wrong.

"Are you all right?" she asked him once she had given up on being able to side step him in her driveway.

"It's you. I _**loved**_ you," the tall man said as if he was guessing an answer. Slowly then, his eyes seemed to take on a bit of clarity, and he took two long strides toward her.

She dropped the groceries and backed away, keeping her eyes on him, trying to make sense of what was happening.

The man did not seem bothered at all by the bag spilled open on the ground. He kept his eyes on her even as he stepped over it. "Never doubt that I loved you," he told her.

She needed to call someone. This man needed help, obviously. And she would need to talk to Evelyn or Doris once this was over. She would need to tell someone that she'd run into a man who had made her think of Duncan. Again.

_This was a set back_, her brain supplied analytically. Two years on and she _**still**_ had these moments when grief took the feet out from under her. She shook her head and circled around the man for her door.

The first thing to do was just get inside, she told herself.

"Sarah Jane," the man said then. his words soft, but intent.

It was cruel, too cruel, that this man would know her name. She froze there just two yards from her door. She wrapped her arms around herself and ducked her chin so that she couldn't see him... as if she would pretend he wasn't there.

He surprised her then when he picked her up and walked for her door. She took a couple swings at him, connecting as hard as she could against his back. But she soon stopped. There was something strange about this man. His reactions. Everything about him was just off.

She told herself not to believe in any miracles. It was pointless to wish it could be the Doctor, past or future. Or even just another Time Lord.

But she couldn't stop those thoughts.

He slowly put her down. He moved with strange, deliberate motions. Finally straightened up, he told her, "It's me." His voice seemed to echo the ache she felt.

"You aren't him," she objected fiercely - even as she told herself it couldn't be anyone else. "He left so long ago. He died," she stressed.

"Look in the garden," he pleaded.

"Why?"

"The TARDIS. _**It**_ hasn't changed. And the location in your back yard was stored in the navigational array. Something went wrong, though," he said apologetically, "as I've landed on a mound of day lilies."

"I planted over that spot. The spot where the TARDIS used to be. I couldn't stand to see it empty," she admitted shakily.

"Inside," he said softly. "Get your key. Let me help you with the door."

///

"What happened? Where were you after you regenerated?" she asked the man who paced in her living room.

"When I woke up... in the morgue, I had regenerated. But I didn't know what was going on. I didn't really know who I was. It must have been the anesthesia in conjunction with the regeneration. It took me well over a year to even remember even half my regenerations. To function properly. But always something whispered at me. Telling me I had been well loved. So, very well loved. And that I had loved her, too."

This one, this regeneration, was unstable, she decided. He was near mechanical one minute and emotional the next. But always, always detached. Distant from her. His use of the past tense not at all a minor point. Their life together was an incomplete memory to him, only vaguely real.

She knew it wasn't his fault, but it still pained her that he could have forgotten so much of their life together. The change in him - this forgetting – was at least as profound as when he had gone from his Third to his Fourth self. But it was even more difficult for her to deal with now.

"It's the war," he told her changing topics jarringly. "The problem is the war. It is going very badly. There is no coming back from this blood letting. There will be no healing after this."

She shook her head with utter disbelief. "What war? Where?"

"It feels like everywhere. Gallifrey even."

"But who could..."

"Daleks."

Her eyes narrowed and she backed away as if with fear. "Not the Daleks. Not again."

But he was already moving on again. His conversation was as unable to stay rooted as he was. "How selfish am I, Sarah Jane? You barely recognize me. But there is that one abiding constant in me, isn't there? That I can be this selfish. I had to see you again. In case it gets worse... It will get worse, I think. And in case I can't remember to come back. I had to tell you how sorry I am. You deserved better." He smiled, but was obviously pained by his thoughts as he added, "The Brigadier would love that? Hmm. I finally realized you deserved better."

"It's alright," she told him. Truthfully, it wasn't. But she didn't know what else to say.

"I was sulking," came his next non-sequitur.

"No," she told him with a touch of her old sarcasm.

"I was remembering bits of being with you. And it thudded through my brain, '_rose garden...rose garden' _And I saw a hundred rose gardens. I saw them with you, didn't I?_" _ HE stopped his pacing right in front of her. Unbearably close. His smile was there. Different, but there. He reached to touch her face, and she froze. The sense of ease that they had once was impossible now.

She saw then that he was wavering on his feet. Exhausted. "You'll stay the night, Doctor."

Hearing her call him that pricked at a memory. He knew, there was something else, whispered and familiar. He searched his mind while she turned him and pointed him towards the stairs. "What ... what did you used to call me?"

"It doesn't matter," she told him, and she guided him to the second floor and to the guest room.

///

It was midnight and he was pushing open her bedroom door. "Sarah Jane," he said. "I need to talk to you." The voice was cracking, changing. He didn't know who he was or who to be with her. There was a touch of the Scottish lilt to what he said that made her start to cry.

"Don't," she said. "Just be who you are. It's alright. I know he's gone."

He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. "No. He'll never be gone. The flashes I see, Sarah Jane? I know no one has ever loved me like that. And I loved you so completely. That's the word, really. _Completely._ I see that smaller man. I can close my eyes sometimes and almost be him. And I feel complete then. Filled up with loving you. That was the best of our times wasn't it? But, it started long ago when it was silver hair, the capes and velvet. I cared about you then. Needed you. That unlikely, overgrown child of a man, who followed? He loved you. _**I **_loved you," he corrected. "As best I could. But I can't fix this. I'm not all him, the regeneration who loved you best. And I can't stay."

"I know. I know."

"It's wrong, Sarah Jane. There are things I am not suppose to say. But I don't care. In case, I can't come back. In case, I forget again." He stretched out next to her then and smoothed her hair. "I saw something. A memory involving your future."

"Your memory, from a future you?"

"No. Someone who was trying to kill me, actually...Something an enemy had seen. Sarah," he said, a smile in his voice now. "I am happy for you. For the way you will be. It was just a flash, but what I saw...."

"But if you shouldn't tell me...." she protested.

"I've been so selfish with you. After all the things you've given me. Done for me. I only want to leave you with a bit of hope... " and he passed his thumb over her lips. "You told me once that I was not the only reticent, difficult male you had dealt with." He smiled at her then. "Isn't it odd the things I remember? Well, there is someone coming."

It was a spooky pronouncement and he made it worse by sounding so happy that he seemed decidedly unhinged. He stopped smiling finally and continued. "And he will love you the way no one else ever could. He is something like me. A difficult intellect. But he won't be reticent with you. Perhaps, just tough, the way boys can be."

"But I couldn't love anyone the way that I loved you."

"No. I know. I truly know. But you will love him as your son."

She was confused. She was hurting. All she could do was shake her head.

Sarah started to say something, but he shushed her. "Go to sleep, Sarah Jane." He paused then before asking her in almost a child's voice, "Can I stay here to watch you sleep? I love to watch you sleep."

She nodded. Bit at her lip as she looked at him. The eyes were different now. The hair all wrong. It made her wonder if the words inside her applied any more.

They were words she had wanted to say for two years now.

It was that phrase that she sometimes said to no one, when she was standing alone in her kitchen... and feeling just _**that**_ undone.

"I love you," she ventured in a shaky voice.

###

She slept a bit. He might have, too, she thought. Because when she turned to him then, hours later in their old bed, he seemed so much better. Calm and sweet. So at ease.

"Let me pretend it's you," she said with a hand to his face.

"It is me," he assured her. And faint touches traced her arm. His smile provoked her own somehow.

He was waiting she knew. Waiting to see if she would kiss him. She closed her eyes then. Saw the impish man he once was. Saw the soft dark curls and the rounder chin. And leaned in to kiss the strange man.

She kissed the small man who had been her husband. She kissed the taller lost soul who had come back to make amends.

Because she knew she would lose them both again too soon.

///

_A/N: More is coming..._


	18. Chapter 18

///

There was a man in her garden. And a police box. Sarah Jane opened the slider door and the noise seemed to startle the smallish fellow with dark hair. He turned to her with a puzzled look and a nervous sort of aspect to his hands.

The two things that Sarah noticed immediately were that her day lillies had been flattened for the second time in three years. And that the man's suit fit so poorly it seemed a purposeful sort of thing.

"Are these your roses?" he asked as he walked to admire the bed closest to him.

"Yes," she said cautiously. "Are you fond of roses yourself?"

"I ... I hadn't thought so. But lately..."

As she gauged her reaction to this man who could not be anyone other than the Doctor, she realized something important. She was past the worst of her grief. Without trying, she had somehow managed to stop thinking of herself as merely his widow.

Today, there was none of that wrenching feeling she had had at seeing the Doctor's eighth self. There was just a bitter sweet swell inside her that brought her to quickly stand by him until they stood shoulder to shoulder at the edge of a bed of roses.

"Well, lately..." the earlier version of her husband continued. "Well, something about the rose garden brought me here. It..."

"Doctor?" she interrupted with a rising emotional impatience. "I know you."

"Yes?" he said with a quirk to his eyebrows. And then, as if the knowledge was just being revealed to him, his face softened. "You know something of this. You do know me. You do or you will..." and then he considered her and his memory seemed to shift and change. "No. No. No," he said as if interrupting himself. "We have met, perhaps. The Tomb of Rassilon?" He pinched at his head for a quick moment then. "Not something I was meant to remember, I believe. But it's in there just the same."

She smiled and worked hard to resist the urge to touch him. "There are times I have thought it was all something I dreamed. A very foggy memory, yes. I must look quite different now, but you look very much the same as you did then."

"What I do notice is that you don't seem very surprised to see me...." he said in question.

She moved to face him and risked a hand to his arm. "I have known you... well, known the Doctor... for years. So, I might be past the point where anything can surprise me much."

"This is unusual though. Even for me," he said sounding a bit uncomfortable. "You see, I have become party to a message in a dream state. A desperate sort of situation. There was a crisis regeneration. A war."

"Is he dead? The last one of you to be here?"

His eyes rose with the surprise that she seemed to know as much or more about this than he did. "I don't know. You would think I would be able to tell," he said with a shake of his head. "I just know I need to tell you this. And I can only risk being here a few minutes."

Sarah Jane was not of a mind to be rushed. She pulled him over to a garden bench and sat him down.

"You remind me of him. That one I was closest to. Shorter," she smiled then. "Seeming impatient even when he was truly not."

"Still," he said clearing his throat. "Only a moment. I am not breaking the Rules of Time in being here. But I am assuredly bending them. Rather hard." And he raised a hand to her face and touched his thumb to her lips. Her eyes went wide. "That touch," he told her. "I saw _that_. And he, not your short fellow, but _**another**_, said, 'Tell Sarah Jane, I love her.' And he showed me this place. These roses."

"Will I see you again?"

"Who knows? I don't always know where I will be tomorrow. Just find happiness, Sarah Jane. Please. For him. For me, I suppose."

She could only nod. And he smiled at her, a crooked little smile. She raised her hand to his face slowly, as if she expected him to flinch. She traced the lines around his mouth and searched his eyes as if she would find Duncan there. Patient and unblinking, he sat and waited.

His lips quirked up softly again. It was a look that made her smile back. But she sensed the restlessness in him then. His need to go. Impulsively, she grabbed for his sleeve. "Please, just a moment more," she whispered. And he indulged her, even knowing what was coming.

She could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew. That soft, sweet, almost fragile look. He was agreeing, for her sake alone. She leaned closer to him with a false sense of abandon. She touched his hair, pushing it off to the side, feeling lost in his shining eyes. And then she kissed him.

"It has hurt not to be able to tell you. To tell him," she said as she passed her hand gently over this Time Lord's cheek. "I love you. Remember that."

"I shall," he promised.

His smile was nervous. Hesitant. Until he seemed to yield to the tenderness he felt. This one was full of feeling, she realized. And he worked to control and hide it. So, different than the others who worked to feel.

"Do you know how inadequate the words can seem?" she asked him, knowing this was just the soul who did.

"I do. I do," and he pressed his lips to her forehead and hugged her reassuringly.

And he touched his own lips then as he stood. He gave her a small wave as he stepped backwards across her garden and to his TARDIS.

/// /// ///

It had been a few years since that afternoon. Often her memories of those moments with the Doctor in her garden seemed unreal. But she treasured them and pulled them to mind quite often.

Her life, she realized, would move on even if she tried not to let it. So, she threw herself into exploring the strange phenomena around her– the things Duncan's computer brought to her attention.

More than just a widow now, she was a writer again and something of an investigator. And she was trying to be happy.

She sat in front of the wall-sized machine in her attic with coffee and a croissant one morning. Her feet were up and her mind was only vaguely on the mundane things that Mr. Smith was checking for her. The computer's voice faltered a moment and seemed to change. She paused there with her cup halfway to her mouth while she listened intently now.

_New data shows that this school is posting unexpected test results after a staff change. Past data on the following staff members is.... non-existent._

###

Sarah Jane had an intuition for situations like this. Searching these back corridors would be the key to finding out the truth about this school.

But that wasn't what she found. She shook her head at the sight of the police box.

"Hello, Sarah Jane..."

"It's you..." she breathed.

This Doctor, the tenth she soon learned, was angry and hurt. It was easy to see, however, that he was simply not ready to heal. Not yet.

He was disconnected from her. In a hurry. Broken in some respects.

This one had worked very hard to forget. And Sarah Jane wondered if she was a memory that made him uncomfortable. Was she a reminder of easier things and times? Things he no longer understood or felt he no longer deserved?

Later, his hand shook as he pressed at the connections he needed to fuse inside K-9. And he knew she had seen it. That show of weakness bothered him. She understood that much about this new Time Lord, and so she kept her distance.

This regeneration was running. Never looking back. So shattered, so plagued by guilt, he could never stay.

Still, he asked her to come with him. But she wouldn't.

"Say it, please, this time," she demanded later, as she stood outside the TARDIS to see him off. "Say it."

"Goodbye. My Sarah Jane."

/// /// ///


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N: This is the REAL last chapter to this story. I know the last chapter seemed like an ending with the whole good bye scene and all... well SURPRISE. I hope you have enjoyed it all. It was a fun bit of madness to turn my mind to. _

_**New note (July 2010) I have written two sequels (both blissfully short) to this. Apparently, I just could not let go of this idea of SJS and her Doctors. The first sequel is called Collecting the Set and the second is called Even Better than Cats.**  
_

_

* * *

_

Sarah Jane knew, after everything she had seen -after everything the Doctor had told her - that there were other time lines. Other realities.

Still, there seemed to be a constant.

She loved him. He loved her... Well, as best he could with any given regeneration.

The Doctor felt bound to let time be what it was. He had broken that rule only enough to let her know that Luke was coming. His second self had bent it enough only to spend a half hour delivering a message.

But Sarah Jane was not a Time Lord. And she was old enough now that she did not want to live with regrets over things not done or said. And so, when she saw him again, she knew she was done abiding all their previous rules.

He was as tall and striking as she remembered, her dapper Time Lord with the silver hair. But he looked decidedly confused. The usual surety was disturbed.

He surveyed her garden quickly and then squinted up at the sun. She could imagine he had assessed all manner of data in those moments, because with a renewed confidence he then strode hard for the house. His long legs churned up the space in no time and she managed to meet him at the door only by running the length of her kitchen.

K-9 rolled through the kitchen door behind her just as she pulled the sliding door open. Within arm's reach of that familiar Time Lord for the first time in decades, Sarah wasted no time. Wasted no thoughts. She grabbed him, pulled him in to the house, almost roughly.

"Sarah? Are we in danger?" he asked. He was eying K-9 suspiciously.

"Less than usual, actually."

"Then what is that thing?"

"Master," K-9 said, and he effectively bowed.

"That," Sarah said, smiling, "is a friend. A gift from you."

The Doctor shook his head and took a few steps across the kitchen. His presence was commanding, so unlike the small fellow who had called this place home.

Sarah was speechless, guiltily enjoying the unlikely sight of him in her house. Luke rounded the corner then, calling for K-9.

She saw the Doctor stiffen as if on alert. He relaxed immediately though at seeing it was just a boy.

"Doctor, this is Luke. My son. Luke, this is the Doctor." The Doctor noted the boy's strange reaction to that news.

"I should probably let you talk then," Luke said managing half a smile. "Um, it was good to meet you, Doctor." The boy backed out of the kitchen then.

"I am getting a very strange feeling being here, Sarah," the Doctor said once they were alone. "Do you know why I've come?"

"Don't you?" she demanded.

"No," he admitted, reluctantly.

"A dream perhaps. Something like a message? A niggling compulsion?"

"Yes," he nodded, a hand coming thoughtfully to his mouth.

She could not help but smile. She was close to laughing with the joy of seeing him. His mannerisms. His comic consternation. His desire to be utterly unflappable even when out done by events was oddly wonderful to her.

"Sit down, Doctor." she told him flatly. And without even waiting for him to get settled, she launched into her explanation. "You, a future you, I do not know which. Perhaps more than one, has most likely prompted you to come here."

"Why?"

"To see me," she said, rather proudly. And she joined him at the table.

"Take pity on an old traveler," he said rather sarcastically. "And explain this to me."

She grinned. "Oh, we came in on that note. Me, complaining about being old. And I was only 40 at the time, mind you. And you far older than you are now."

"Sarah Jane," he said, scathingly. "You are making this worse. You are talking in riddles."

"I was trained by the best." He rolled his eyes to complain, and she laughed before she continued. "I don't care if this breaks the rules," she told him. "You've broken them, too. I won't just hug you and watch you go, the way I have with the other messengers..."

"What other messengers?"

"You! The other yous."

"And the message?"

She smiled cryptically. She pulled her chair roughly across a bit of floor so that their knees were almost touching. He looked at her askance, as if slightly worried for her sanity. "K-9, leave us, please," Sarah Jane said softly.

She did not take her eyes from the old gentleman's, as she listened to her wheeled friend depart. She moved to take the Doctor's hand with very deliberate motions then. He felt at a disadvantage for the first time with her; she sensed it in the stiffness to his grasp.

"The message," she continued, "has always been ... that you love me. That you were sorry you had to leave. And then, whatever you it has been... maybe he stayed a bit, but always he left, too. This time, I am the one who is going to break the rules. This time, I am the one with the message."

"Alright, Sarah," he said as if steeling himself.

"Where is your Sarah Jane?" she asked him.

"She's been busy, finishing up a story. I haven't seen her in a day or two."

"You think she might have a crush on you," she said carefully and with precision. "She's young. Perhaps, you think, she sees in you the father she lost." His eyes were wider now. But she really hadn't told him anything that could not have been surmised. "She cares for you more than she should... which is exactly how you feel about her," she told him, repeating the words his seventh self had told her years ago in that clothes cupboard on the TARDIS.

"What are you trying to change?"

"I don't know. But not changing things hasn't helped you. I'm not sure it has helped the universe. You are the clever one. I figured you would know what to do. Whether that is nothing. Or something. Or maybe..." she said, squeezing his hand harder. "Maybe, I am supposed to tell you this. Maybe I always have? Maybe _**that**_ is the paradox."

"Why?"

"So that you will know that I will always catch you. Any of you. Always. I said you always left, but Doctor, I want you to know. You always came back, too. I had you with me for years." He flinched quickly at hearing her unguardedly tell him the future. She held on to his hand tightly and pulled it to her. His eyes were wide and locked on hers now.

She quickly decided to tell him everything. "I married you - on three different worlds. And managed 14 years with you by the TARDIS' reckoning. Erase this memory if you must, but let me tell you, we were so happy. It was fun and insane and wonderful."

He looked distinctly shocked for one incautious moment. And then rubbed at his chin with a movement she realize she had missed seeing.

"The boy? Luke?" he suddenly asked.

"Adopted," she said with a grin. "And there's a long story there. He's a lot like you. Difficult, in that brainy, distracted way. But not that typical reticent male I had come to loathe. He's..." She stopped then struck by what she had just told him and how those words had come to her through him... in his future but her past. "Oh God," she said pinching her brow for a moment and smiling. "I think you will remember that. You said that to me..."

She leaned forward in her chair and kissed him gently just at the corner of his mouth. And as she eased back from him, his hand came up to caress her cheek. It was that sweet touch that she had always remembered, always carried with her. When he passed his thumb over her lips, she smiled at him. "Yes," she said. "Just like that. You always made me feel so cherished when you did that."

The corners of his mouth turned up slowly then. It was that paternal sort of look that she was beginning to suspect was meant to make him seem aloof when there were things he couldn't say.

"You'll stay for dinner?" she asked enthusiastically. "For Luke's sake. He's wondered about you, I know. He isn't an ordinary boy in some ways and he would really enjoy talking to you."

And so he stayed. The three of them sat up until quite late, until Sarah insisted Luke go to bed. And Luke's quiet objections earned him a smile from the doctor.

"Will you stay the night?" Luke asked from the stairs. "We could talk some more over breakfast. Before I have to go to school."

"We've got a guest room. It's all made up. It's no trouble," Sarah said gently.

He found he couldn't say no. He laughed to feel her finger tips pushing at him. Prompting him to climb the stairs as if he was some errant child.

###

She knocked lightly and let herself into his room after she had given him a chance to get settled.

"Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"Could we sit up and talk a bit? I know I won't likely see you again. I don't want to waste any of this time."

"Alright." And he hung the velvet coat up on the bed post and sat down with her. "Luke's sleeping?"

"Yes. I don't think it will scandalize him to find me in here talking with you, if that is what you are wondering."

"This is so far from anything I had considered, Sarah Jane, that frankly I don't know what I am wondering."

Once they both were sitting amicably on the bed, they talked of UNIT and old times. They talked about the adventures she had had on her own. And she told him about Luke and what a relief it was to have him with her. That there was a joy she had not known was missing from her life until she found him.

"I think he wonders about my life before. He knows I was married. He's never had a father, obviously, and I sometimes think he would like to see himself as part of a bigger family. With a dad. There are pictures of me with Duncan that he enjoys. And the stories he hears about you are, of course, very romantic. Who would not want to have such an exciting wonderful father."

"Shame the reality is so disappointing. I have not done well on that score."

"No, I know." And she smiled. But she also looked tired.

"Lie down if you'd like, Sarah. I can see you're exhausted."

She crawled further onto the bed to stretch out by the wall, her arm under her head. She got herself comfortable and then tugged on his shirt. "Will you lie down?"

He did, but she saw the wariness to him. He lay on his back then and talked as if to the ceiling. She lay curled at his side. She put her hand on his chest, and he covered it with his own.

"I understand now why some regenerations you might want to avoid all the emotions," she told him quietly. "Why you wouldn't form the attachments. Because it's so very hard to go through all of this with you. Having you come and go. Having you be the man I loved, but not quite him. Seeing you not need me at times. It hurts, loving you this long. It would break anyone's heart to love like this. I can't imagine being a Time Lord and having to love and lose over and over, a thousand years running."

"Oh, my Sarah," he said, as he rolled over to face her. "For better or worse, all grown up."

"All grown up and then some," she quipped with a brimming smile.

"And still so beautiful." He worked a strand of her hair around his finger then as he studied her.

He knew he would take a lock of her hair and place it in the TARDIS. _"That, old girl, is Sarah Jane," he would tell the ship's data storehouse. "My heart and home. Remember her for me..."_

"Do you love her? Your Sarah," she asked, pulling his thoughts back to now.

"In my way."

She nodded. Sighed. Let a single finger toy with his hair. His eyes closed when she then stroked his face.

"You are tampering with my resolve that's been long set," he said, his eyes still closed and his voice somehow changed.

"I'm sorry," she said sadly as she pulled her hand back. "I'll stop."

"No. I don't know that I am telling you to stop," he admitted, as he returned the touch. "It's you. It's only tonight. Things will be back to normal when I go back."

"Because you'll erase the memories?"

"Some of them. Enough of them. It is difficult to be selective. I will have to work with the TARDIS to leave me something of today. It is a puzzle I have already considered." And the hand that had passed from her arm down to rest at her waist tightened. He smiled then as best he could, "Did you love me? Back then."

"In my way," she teased. "I was very unsure about what it was I felt. It was part awe. Part concern and affection. I held back. I never let myself think that it was romantic love. I would never give it that name. I was too sure you would reject me. You can't understand how foolish I felt at times, like I was such a child in your eyes."

"So often it is about the past. About things that are set. But this is something new. As if I am borrowing against my future," he said.

"So odd that it should be like this, that you -my past- should be here. Now." She lay her hand on his face again and felt a familiar feeling rush through her – that feeling she had felt for his seventh self. "I love you, Doctor." There was a sense of realization in her voice. A small note of surprise. "But I am not saying that to hear anything back. I know it doesn't work that way. Your Sarah Jane had to grow up. I had to lose you and get you back - for just this moment - to have this happen." She leaned in slowly, giving him time to object. But he didn't, he met her kiss. He returned it weakly at first, then rallied to kiss her with feeling. "I'm glad you agreed to stay long enough for us to talk," she whispered.

"But you should go off to bed now, Sarah Jane." It was an odd thing for him to say with his hand tightly holding her at the waist. And she knew him too well now to believe he meant what he said.

She laughed quickly. "That was your try at protecting the girl I was. You are trying to save me from a horrible moral lapse, perhaps? Or are you trying to prevent me from complicating my life by getting involved with a Time Lord? Really, Doctor," she said with a cheeky smile. "I'm decades older now ...and your widow. There is no keeping me from falling in love with you."

"Force of habit, perhaps," he said with an amused look on his face. His expression changed then at seeing how this Sarah Jane plainly felt about him. Abruptly, he stood up from the bed and pulled on his jacket. "Leave Luke a note. Tell him you couldn't sleep and we've gone to talk in the TARDIS.

And while she quickly wrote that out, he straightened the bed and flipped over and smoothed the pillows.

She wanted to laugh seeing this penchant for neatness that would be completely absent in his next regeneration and his Seventh.

###

Come morning, they stood in the control room. The Doctor fiddling with the console, while Sarah waited by the open door for her son to come outside.

"There he is," she said happily, and she waved him on. Luke smiled broader and stepped quicker when she called out, "I thought we could have breakfast on the TARDIS."

###

After breakfast, the Doctor explained to Sarah what he would need to do. He would enlist the TARDIS' help in removing some of the memories while still here at her house. And he would see the door open prompting him to come outside. This way Sarah would get to say good by to him and help smooth out the memories he would hang on to.

He stood at the console ready to begin the process and he could feel the sense of loss already. He would be going back to his Sarah Jane but to a very different relationship. Returning to her. But losing her.

He reached in his pocket and pulled out the lock of hair he had taken from her while she had slept. He didn't know why it was so important to have Sarah become more a part of the TARDIS by introducing that bit of her. He just knew that it was.

Rubbing the ache in his head, he walked out into the bright sunlight of her garden.

"Sarah Jane," he said uneasily. "I am having some Deja vu." He squinted up at the sun before turning to check the position of the TARDIS in her garden. "I've been here with you and then erased some of the memories? And apparently, I made some sort of error that involved obliterating a flower bed."

"That's not your fault," she said, smiling. "But, yes. You've been here and decided to remove some of the memories."

"Why?"

"I revealed a lot about the future - more than was likely safe. But you wanted to give me this chance at good bye."

She wrapped her arms around him and stood on her tip toes to kiss him. She pulled at him, and he leaned in finally. He seemed impassive to the kiss, and then he kissed her back in earnest.

"You stayed the night," she said as she looked up at him. "Or rather I stayed with you on the TARDIS."

"Yes," he said whispering, as if propriety demanded he lower his voice. He gave her a squeeze then. "I recall that. Likely because it is stored as something emotional. So, it is remembered twice in a way."

"Good. My pride had hoped I would not be the only one remembering things," she said with a teasing smile. "Now, Doctor, please. Remember my son, Luke."

"Yes, breakfast on the TARDIS," he said as he obviously tested at his memory to see what was there. "A remarkable boy. And he loves you so much."

"I know how time gets away from you, Doctor. So in case it takes you another 30 years or 50 to return, remember him, as I might not be here."

"I love you. In my way," he said with a touch to her cheek.

"And I love you, too. In many, many ways."

/ / / / /

It was only two weeks later that Luke's excited calls rang off the walls. "Mum? Mum! There's someone at the door. Says he's the Doctor. But it doesn't look like him. Any of him."

She rounded the corner, flushed and near running. Her eyes went wide at the sight of the man crossing her threshold.

She smiled hard, but stopped short in her hallway. She needed to give this Doctor whatever space he may need, she knew. "Any younger looking," she told him, "and you would get picked up for truancy walking the streets."

She said it all noncommittally. She would not rush to him. Because, it was a fact of their entwined lives that he didn't always feel all of it - all the connections. He didn't necessarily carry all those things that she would never be rid of.

"How are you?" she asked softly.

"I miss you," he near sobbed.

"When did you regenerate?" came her knowing question, as she stepped closer to touch him lightly.

"A week? Maybe two. I was so lost. I felt frantic to find you again. And I thought about the rose garden. The TARDIS knew..."

She smiled at him knowingly. She thought it likely something in the latest regeneration had caused the recent visit from his third self.

"The TARDIS knew where to take you," she said for him. "There's no chance of me ever having an unlisted number," she joked. She grinned then at his confused look and laid a hand to his cheek. "You look a bit like a new geography professor. Fresh out of school," she told him.

He didn't wait. He couldn't. He looped an arm around her back and leaned into kiss her.

"Whoa!" Luke chimed in from behind them.

"It's alright, Luke," his mother said. Recovered now, she held the Doctor at arm's length. "We're married, remember. Sort of."

"I thought I might... stay a bit," the Doctor said. He was smiling now, a beautiful lopsided grin. "I parked in my usual spot. Which means, of course, that I'm terribly sorry about the day lillies."

"Don't be so cheeky. And so presumptuous," Sarah Jane warned.

"Right," he said, cautiously.

"But that would be nice if you stayed. I really would like it ... for a bit at least. God, knows what the neighbors are going to say though."

"You've been a widow a respectable amount of time."

"It's not that!" she said as she thumped him on the chest. "You don't even look 30!"

"I'll add a little gray at the temples. Right as rain. You'll see."

She looked completely unconvinced.

"Well," he suggested, "Tell them I'm an old soul."

/

* * *

_I made my notes for this ending such a long time ago. It was after Matt Smith was named as the 11th Doctor but before any of his episodes. So, I had him in mind, but really knew nothing about him... which made it easier to see him on her doorstep this way._


End file.
